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, a sudden 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."