#but i think it needed to be done

god of the silver bow,

sweet healer,

great averter of wickedness,

i have grown so very distant

it hurts my poetic soul, the soul that feels shaped by your hand

o apollon, the daylight feels so scarce

i wish you could whisk me away to your northern lands

if only so i can bask in your warming presence for a moment

my darling patron, it grows dark without you

i crave your protective radiance, the wildfire aura that soothes rather than stings

and so i will give praise to you until i can see the dawn again