8/3/2019 The Oracle at Delphi

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The sun caresses the slopes of Mount Parnassus as the dawn chorus sings,Apollo smiles and warms the hearts of all that come to hear honoured things,Olive branches quiver in anticipation as gentle breezes stir the weary soul,A new day arrives at the Temple of Delphi the end to every pilgrims goal.

The wisened Priests are still in their beds as Pythia takes to her golden chair,Tiny threads of precious stones are woven through her wild chestnut hair,

And her lips are as red as the berries newly crushed to spice the days wine,A heart weighs heavy at the thought of all the answers she has yet to divine.

A simple robe of finest cloth clings to the shapely curves but he tends it not,For here the young shepherd watches in awe from at her feet beside her spot,Where he had managed to sneak past the guards and sleep through the night,Awaiting the Prophetess and ready to be the first to set his own world to right.

She smiles to see his eyes as bleary as her own from the fumes that rise here,Where two fault lines merge beneath her seat and make her visions clear,Gases permeate the air to help her clear her mind and aid her sacred sight,But little had he realised as he breathed them in for hours all of the night.

Her green gaze met his and a smile broke from her heart and lit up her face,In all her years no-one had ever managed to be alone with her in this place,He was little older than she and looked all confused as in a state of trance,So she asked the question for herself never believing she would get the chance.

As if her voice was like a tiny rivulet of fresh water in a burning dessert sand,His ears sang to the melodious sound and he reached to gently cup his hand,And in her ear words fell from his mouth but he could not make them out,It was as if he was dreaming and responding but all inside him was in doubt.

Her eyes burned for one brief moment at Apollos response and then fell dull,

For one brief moment her spirit soared and she felt the euphoria split her skull,Then all was peaceful again and she was once more the vessel to a Gods voice,And the shepherd starts to rouse himself as she takes up the mantle of her choice.

He takes flight suddenly aware he should not be in her presence unattended,The impetuous folly of youth quickly stripped and torn to smallest shred,And as the scented air slowly brings her towards the working state she needs,The lad is flown like bird from cage unaware of his same talent for such deeds.

Pythias breast beats to a rhythmic pace deep and low and thrills to the tune,

Her pale smooth skin tingles and is as milky white as the fullest Summer moon,Attendants stir and find her there and prepare the room for the Temples flow,They come to ask her but one question and to them an answer she will bestow.

The old Priests fuss about her and give counsel or explanation to those who seek,But she is strong in spirit and bold though they think her timid and weak,And Apollo has blessed her with the gift and spoken of what is to come for her,Her beautiful face is more at peace and from her eye the tiniest tear does stir.