It starts as it always has since time and man began.
A yearning for him to find completion. A wish. A hope.
Seeking, searching for the divine within the sublime
The purest of spirits both beautiful and beyond our grasp.
Defining defies all skill of artists and poets most grand.
With words they paint. They portray. They pretend to see
The infinite essence of she that is graceful magnificence.
They cannot know she who will not be held by mortals’ words.
Words that can only hope to fall profane on ears so grand.
Step by humble step I’ll climb and stumble flights of stone to her temple.
I’ll fall time and time again but for a glance. A word. A kindness.
Upon her altar I’ll lay, an offering to touch man’s primal quest.
For her I’ll give, with kneeling form and willing breast bared,
This that pounds within and beats for her. From her. Of her.
I will return to her, my goddess fair, this my sacrificial heart.
© Brandewulf 2017
A repost of an early poem of mine from 2017.