Feb 26, 2023
“Apollo,” I say. “Doesn’t come to me in the soft humming of hymns or melodic tunes of harp-players; it’s not in the graceful art of music or intricate web of hypnotic dance that I see Him.”
“Apollo,” and the name reverberates, as if hitting something deep under the layers of warm, Sun-heated soil only to come back tenfold, ancient and powerful. It fills you, entraps you, and breaks you like a heatstroke. “Is the heat of the Earth and the warmth of the soil. My God is in the very air, in vapors of the underground, in the scorching hot insides of the earthly matter.”
“Apollo”, the sound is primordial, like drumming of cymbals and deep thrumming of trumpets. “Is a hungry God. A demanding God. A wanting God. One day, He’ll consume me.”
