For the Goddess: an anacreontic

I put my faith in the divine,
when its word turns to flesh like thine:
with each curve and unbroken line
a glimpse of something pure and fine;
and on your lips, like sacred wine,
I long to linger and recline.

Let others long for love, and pine
away for paradise – you’re mine;
I need no churches, texts or signs
to prove the worth of your design.
You are the source, the heart, the spine
of all that lives, sweet womankind.

08 NOV 2010

© 2010, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.