An Invocation for Hermes

I call to the messenger of the blessed gods,

More nimble than wind

Faster than Zeus’s lightning

Angelos Athanaton

Come on winged foot

God of swift feet and messengers

I call to the clear-sighted one,

The clear-headed schemer,

The author of many cunning plans

Mechaniotes

Come to me by paths that wind

Like the writhing belly of a snake

God of snakes

And those who speak with forked-tongue

For I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.

I call to you

Who guides the feet of the psyche,

Through doors Celestial

— and Chthonic,

Into temptation or away from evil,

In life as well as in death

Waking and sleeping.

Psychopompos

For though the way to the underworld is obscure to me

And though I cannot walk

From dream to dream

No path is hidden from you.

I call to the messenger of the blessed dead,

Taking coins from the marketplace

Adding them to Charon’s bribe —

Entering even into a house of Hades.

A shepherd of his wealth

Angelos Makaron

Come by the way that is hidden in plain sight

Through unseen doors that are always open

And bring to me an omen from places below

For I know not where to look

I call to the sleepless one,

Ever-toiling,

Resting with one sharp eyed open

Watchful shepherd,

Aesop would pour out a libation of milk

To Epimelios

God of rustic arts:

Poetry, pan-pipe and dalliance

Come to us, weary traveller

Take a respite from your wandering

I call to the helpful one,

Friend of humankind

Savior of Odysseus,

Eriounes

Come and join us,

For though there might be rules

Which would withhold your presence from us,

You know, I know, and we all know

That such rules cannot bind you

— Unless you so choose