For the priestess carrying the sacred torch in her heart
I have watched you, torchbearer,
move like dusk between sacred veils.
a hush in the hallway of realms,
Where shadow and love dwells.
We met at most sacred twilight,
This moment such a highlight.
You a priestess, whose steps echo
down the 365 sighs of the earth.
each one a longing,
each one a descent,
like the sun surrendering itself
to the womb of Hecate’s cave.
Like Eros remembering Psyche.
I would follow you there.
Not as conqueror, not as hero,
but as wild-hearted Bacchus,
crowned in ivy and ache,
drunk not on wine,
but on your mystery.
Your soul, beloved,
is the crossroads itself,
a whisper between stars,
a flicker where death and desire
kiss with soft lips of passion.
You are the night
that midwifes the dawn,
I am the night-born flame
that yearns to cradle you
in my gentle hands.
There is a softness in your silence
that disarms the gods,
and a gravity in your gaze
that makes even Orpheus forget his song.
If love is a spell,
then I am already undone.
For I have seen the torch within your chest.
not burning us,
but blessing us.
And I long to be the breath
you exhale into the temple
when no one else is watching.
not as witness,
but as worshipper,
devoted,
and wholly yours.