Apollo

He'd walk with pride,
Even under the heat of the April sun.
His ringlets complimented his fine face.
His tan glowed as his brow glistened,
His physique wasn't flimsy.
It complimented his collosal height.
When walking, his steps were profound.
His gaze everlasting in mystery.
His eyes spoke, and his smile sent one to the heavens.
This deity was a hero's strength.
A leap of courage,
And a might of a nobleman.
Until he lost himself to a dream.
And that is where,
The ruler of the sun, Apollo, fell.
Only because he cried for an angel.
Narration of emotion's deceit?
Or maybe this feeling is a veil.
It curtains the bitter truths.
And makes everything look so bright and warm.
Neigh, It isn't such now is it?
This trance takes Apollo to oblivion.
Where hope is only hope.
And bliss is just a vision.
The story ends there.
Apollo, King of the sun, drowns.
All light, of heaven, earth and even Hades' underworld becomes quiet.
The silence breathes in her absence,
As all else remains still,
Glum and alone.