What are your gods?
You ask - I have none
I love not and worship
not
you smiled and held me
brought me a gift, the knife
In your hands the knife
caressed me, raised me
to heights of
exaltation
loved and cherished me.
Your love and the knifes touch.
In the dark places of memory
the knife softly cradled me,
protected me
and soothed my pain.
Tenderly stroked and eased my care,
and kept me in
its present.
Alone I gazed upon its beauty.
The strength and eloquence of line,
the
sensual blade and tender edge
I beheld enraptured,
captivated as one
bewitched.
What are your gods?
You ask - I have none
I love not and worship
not.
The knife smiles, and accepts
again my dark libation.
