I've been thinking about my spirituality. I feel forgotten. I feel alone. As if there is no one to hear me. I'm not sad about it, just annoyed. I dedicated time and emotions and got nothing in return.
I sound like a spoiled child. So, what of it? When I needed to feel the warmth the most I felt nothing. So, my question is this: Have the gods abandoned me?
I was reading Keats the other day and he showed me the way back to Apollo. Patron of poets. Father of the Muses.
God of the golden bow,
And of the golden lyre,
And of the golden hair,
And of the golden fire,
Of the patient year,
Where—where slept thine ire,
When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath,
Thy laurel, thy glory,
The light of thy story,
Or was I a worm—too low crawling for death?
O Delphic Apollo!
Maybe I need to start over again. I can't go back to 101. I'm too far gone for that.
Creation of art for the gods.
Starting with Apollo. Thank you, Keats.