Apollo's Chariot Gracefully Recedes

Where do I begin in this poetic pleasantness that has run askew, tall bright trees flowering in their beauty, a wanderlust of colors, crimson, white, green and blue their blossoms streaming with rivulets of dew. The shrouded forests, the majestic willow's drooping arms, sweetbrier, thistle and sharp scented pines carpeting pathways to an enormous woodland shrine. All creatures welcome, all received therein, devoid of hatred, devoid of primordial sin. Here enfolded, here amassed in ritualistic perfection, heads bowed, grazing in silence on the rich verdant grass. Untamed branches garlanded in red streak across the leaf covered fullness, daylight spreads corpulent and brisk feasting on the dawn, passerines perched wide eyed eager to start the worship with their song. In echoes of their voice overtaking the accompanying music of the breeze, a ceremony perpetuated from age to age, breathtaking and elegant, from each to each transposing their knowledge and their need. No guilt, none to be forgiven for they exist not as I, but as we. Quintessence to be admired and emulated, perceived and protected so as to understand our order in the natural world. As the sun begins its new solstice Apollo's chariot gracefully recedes unperturbed, in golden flight brimming with fire in the settling eve.