dionysius and apollo

I’ll be the dust
if you’ll be the light;
I’ll be wrong
if you will be right.

I am but cut grass,
you are the scent, last
when I would be first,
worse
when I would be better,
fetter
when I would be free.
I would be you
but you would have me be me.

I’ll either be light or heat;
these two never meet
in me.
You are the fire,
Dionysius and Apollo,
heart and mind,
diamonds unmined.
I am but feeling or thought
fractured, fined,
a peeled orange rind,
color but no bite,
seeing with no sight,
sea but no flight.
Be my thick and thin,
be my loss when I would win.
When I would laze, be my wind;
be my praise when I would sin.
Whisper grace—coax me out when I am in.


Dionysius and Apollo
a poem by Troy Cady