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@sleepingphantom-blog
XXXVI
Precious Archer! The hand that pulls your arrow Is shaped by golden carpals
Drawn firmly back Taut abreast your wing, unquaking - And too, your bow string
Driven forward As by a hare's foot, or perhaps A swooning dove in air
[ Maddening arrow Frightful in purpose, ever unknown To we mere mortals -]
Eros, Almighty Lover! Entangle us like serpents In your holy delight
XXXIV
Eros, capricious god, brilliantly spangled Leaned into me and whispered.
XXXV
[ How strange it is That the closest to godliness Is emptiness. ]
And he laughed, that tender usurper, As if he knew.
XXXI
Precious boy With hand on your arrow No longer can I tell your pity Apart from your blessing
XXXII
Holy Eros, Deathless Longing, Bearer of Desirous Torch, Striker of Soft Heart,
I fear I am stripped bare of my humanity before you.
How can I face you when I am so unbecoming, wanting and ugly.
XXXIII
I am struck by you O, right into my chest And I wept to you, Cruelest boy.
[ There is nothing left to strike! ]
➳ In an effort to keep this devotional blog to a specific streamlined look, as well as be more accessible, I set up a partner blog at asleepingarrow.
I often miss questions and the like directed at me here since it’s not my main, and I don’t receive alerts for it. So, I’m happy to answer anything I may have missed here over at @asleepingarrow.
Otherwise it will most likely just be spare pictures, thoughts, etc that don’t quite suit how I want this blog’s tone and look to be. I can’t say it will be especially follow-worthy, but it will be there as an option for whatever reason.
➳ bringing needed fresh color to an otherwise winter barren shrine.
XXIX
I've turned my eyes blind o milk white beast of love cored them out and prayed not to be so easily dazzled
Syrup sweet froths in my lungs far lost is the sensible tongue now whipping up only coagulated saccharine strings of nothing
The arrow you've placed in me sears my bones black and aching crumbling under a divine weight cellularly splitting into gold threads
My body no longer seems itself overcome by a trembling fear have you laid me to this grave for your pleasure or mine
XXX
Be with me, sweet love, carry this heart on your wing for it is too weak now to move forward alone.
Pierce it deep once more with courageous arrow; turn me foolish and I will run forever.
➳ ➳ ➳ ➳➳ ➳ ➳ ➳➳ ➳ ➳ ➳➳ ➳ ➳ ➳➳ ➳ ➳ ➳➳ ➳ ➳ ➳➳ ➳ ➳ ➳
ἐρέω τε δηὖτε κοὐκ ἐρέω καὶ μαίνομαι κοὐ μαίνομαι
I'm in love! I'm not in love! I'm crazy! I'm not crazy!
Anakreon, PMG 428
Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
I hate and I love. Why? you might ask. I don't know. But I feel it happening and I hurt.
Catullus, 85
In the last month and some days, I have felt Eros almost too much. I am now with too many words, I do not even know how to put them down to paper. I read the words of Catullus and Anakreon and find myself reflected therein. I have read and reread Sappho until my heart hurt.
I have praised Eros on his throne with passionate heart, and I have cursed him while crying on the floor. I have felt both blessed and haunted. I have felt his presence tightly supportive, and I have felt abandoned, drowning. I have felt him more quickly and violently than I can process. I have understood myself, and been even further muddled by my own thoughts. I'm miserable! I'm not miserable! I'm inflamed! I'm left freezing!
This is the crux of Eros, cruel and tender Usurper of Hearts.
There is only the finite, and that hovering threat of nothingness is what makes him so simultaneously beautiful and terrifying. It creates a hunger that consumes all, until there is nothing left but the memory of desire, which only fans the flames further.
I'm weeping for love. I'm weeping for love lost. Eros has me tumbling further, and I will keep chasing him.
Eros has left me exhausted, but enlivened. I have shed enough tears to pour a handsome libation for him.
With a heart heavy and weighted down by the burdens of affection, I'm placing the memories of these last days under the platform of his shrine. I can not bear to see them in plain sight, but I am comforted in the thought of them close by. Let this shrine be just as much a grave. Eros has left me for dead, but also breathed new life into me.
μήτε μοι μέλι μήτε μέλισσα
XXVIII
Tender Usurper, I told you that I wanted no part in this affection has no place for me
Yet you placed me on the highest bough and left me to fend for myself
And now you've shook me
XXVII
evening, not yet midnight awake on the bed pulling at lyre strings
I feel like weeping because I do not know what you are doing to me
o what have I done to deserve this ever the fool
XXVI
Cruel Eros, you've tricked me again! Swung me limp like a rag doll, to arms that can not hold a body with no substance.
You've laid poisons to the wine which cursed us to say beautiful, wonderful, ugly things that slip away after midnight.
O Monster of Arrows, there is no more room in me to receive your aches and pain! I am already bled out.
Should I lay myself before you, would you show pity for me? Pray, remove just this one arrow from my weeping chest.
➳ Feeling a little lost for words lately. Opened the windows for fresh air, cleaning up and organizing the room a bit, refreshed libations, and planning to transfer my previous devotions into a handmade notebook I purchased just for the purpose. Maybe I just need some reflection time to shake off this funk, maybe it’s just because my other gods are stronger presences in the fall.
➳ Likely going to be my most difficult, involved devotional act for Eros yet: learning the ancient lyre. I’ve been excitedly awaiting its arrival from Greece. Though I’m sure it will be some time before I can be considered any level of skillful, I hope that the time invested will make him proud. I selected a 7 string barbiton style lyre (though the makers kindly upgraded me to a 9 string).
OMG I want one where’d you get it? I maaaaaay or may not want to try and learn for Apollon since my singing is abysmal.
It was made by the wonderful craftsmen at Luthieros. Like any instrument however, it is an expensive investment, so I recommend careful consideration first. I highly recommend them though, they were wonderful to order from!
➳ Likely going to be my most difficult, involved devotional act for Eros yet: learning the ancient lyre. I’ve been excitedly awaiting its arrival from Greece. Though I’m sure it will be some time before I can be considered any level of skillful, I hope that the time invested will make him proud. I selected a 7 string barbiton style lyre (though the makers kindly upgraded me to a 9 string).
XXV
I do not always write for you because I become tired - my libations become infrequent as I lie in bed sorrow sung, praying that Tuesday will bring me the strength to pour you a glass and I feel shamefully small.
But my heart is full with good intent and my life overflowing with the subtleties of you; from the bottle of rose red wine which I bought in your honor, to the shirt I wore today of arrows crossed over my breast, in the song played loudly in the car hoping it would reach your ears, the small things, all which haunt me, straying my thoughts to you.
I believe that this love is fine worship too.
XXIV.a
Sweetbitter Eros, Gut Wrencher, Heart Strangler, You've soothed these bruises With a wash of milk and honey; But your dripping sweet words, O they wound me still!
XXIV.b
All is fair in the art of love and war; But Eros, in a galavanting flight - He brings with him a hang man's noose!
XXIII
Heavenly archer Forgive these clumsy fingers. My lyre is still young, untaught But for you, I will play.
