Offering I

If Venus, planet of love
was destroyed by global warming
then it cannot be You
we named it after so long ago,
could it? For
how could we mistake being condemned
for wanting too much
for what You have to offer us,
for Your wonder and horrors,
for Your divinity?

I pray that I know You
better than my ancestors,
that if I were to ever be so audacious
as to name something after You
I would do so justifiably,
as much as it could be,
that You see see my efforts
my reverences
my devotions
that I have carved into my flesh,
how I have presented You with a block of marble
and let Your will transform it,
the ways I attempt to put a fragment of Your essence
into every word every action every movement,

For I swear to be your faithful servant,
and these words are the blood
that seals this oath,
for it is the way to bleed
that I know best,
and all the words
that have came from me before
are for love in Your name.

O Beauty,
O Towers of Love,
O Venus,
take these and allow me to do Your work,
to forever and ever
change and be changed,
to forever and ever
bleed and be bled in this way,
to forever and ever
want too much
and never be condemned for it.

I am the high priestess; it is written
all over my black vestal dress,
my nightmares my daydreams my narratives
of power through love my fantasies of a Culture
far greater and more powerful than out own;
allow me to be Yours allow me to be Yours allow me to be Yours.