Entombed
A dark place
where I'd bled to death by my own hand.
He rolled back the stone
with the brush of fingertips
reached into the blackness
and pulled me out,
shivering, heart atrophied.
His breath became mine,
mist to turn the blinding day
into a prismatic nebula that played about his brow.
His warmth infused my flesh,
re-igniting a passion pyre I had thought destroyed in
the time when Jerusalem fell.
Inclining his head
he shared his nimbus with my own dusty skull
and with his lips to mine
he gave me
Life.
O, god of my idolatry,
allow me my worship
of you.
Let me wrap you in the golden filaments
that suit you so well.
Let me cense the temple
with sweet herbs and myrrh.
Let me bathe and oil your sacred flesh,
preserve this perfection.
Let me bring the moon
to illuminate our bedchamber,
rain the stars
to make you smile,
Craft potions and unguents
and charms to keep you safe.
Above all,
let me but gaze
into your earthy irises,
my salvation at long last found,
and I beg you
let me dwell in this,
the house of my lord,
forever.