I Have Memory And Awareness,
But I Have No Shape Or Form.
As A Disembodied Spirit,
I Am Dead And Yet Unborn.
I Have Passed Into Olympus
As Was Told In Tales Of Old,
To The City Of Immortals,
Marble White And Purest Gold.

I See The Gods In Battle Rage On High,
Thunderbolts Across The Sky.
I Cannot Move, I Cannot Hide,
I Feel A Silent Scream Begin Inside.

Then All At Once The Chaos Ceased.
A Stillness Fell, Of Sound And Peace.
The Warriors Felt My Silent Cry
And Stayed Their Struggle, Mystified.

Apollo Was Atonished;
Dionysus Thought Me Mad.
But They Heard My Story Further,
And They Wondered, And Were Sad.

Looking Down From Olympus
On A World Of Doubt And Fear,
Its Surface Splintered
Into Sorry Hemispheres.

They Sat A While In Silence,
Then They Turned At Last To Me.
"We Will Call You Cygnus,
The God Of Balance You Shall Be."