Apollo’s Blessing

Have you ever had one of those blissful mornings that is blessed from the first flutter of your tired eyes?

Where the sunlight sings through your shades, dressing your skin with its golden lace.

Its warmth like the gentle touch of an old friend.

As if you and Apollo have shared some memory and were smiling upon its reflection.

Times when you would both look down upon silly creatures playing.

Maybe this is why things like the bruises on my arms or the scars on my legs seem so beautiful, because at one time I was untouchable.

Drinking wine with Dionysus and wondering how it felt to even ride a bike.

To have the wind graze my cheek, hair in my mouth, sun in my eyes.

How curious it would be to fall and scrape my knee, scarlet on my skin, to bear a temporary wound without realizing how grand it is to be limited.

Because when you live without expiration you cherish things less often.

Maybe the gods look at our finite existence with envy.

And what is to stop them from breaking their essence into little pieces?

To place them into people like me so they can feel the way tears fall differently in love and in pain.

You can tell who they are by looking closely.

The freckles on our backs are shaped like constellations, our eyes shine in the reflection of the moon.

But the biggest clue is when it is our time to die. We go gracefully.

Finally returning home where we can share our stories and entertain the gods for the afternoon.

Have you ever had a morning with Apollos blessing? I did today, I think I’ll go ride a bike