lex orandi, lex credendi
i think reverence looks good on you.
when the light strikes just right: a renaissance masterpiece—
handcrafted devotion, a fresco
adorned in the colour of your eyes. our days
could be golden prayers and silver linings
and you could live in the silent space
between each trembling
breath i draw.
you could be sacred. i could be sacred.
there could be something worth worshipping
in the way our palms meet. when you say my name,
it could sound like a hymn. tell me, does it tug
at your heart just so? the feeling
of being swallowed by a wave so tall
that you are humbled?
we are on our knees in an instant, pledged
to a faith defined by nothing more
and nothing less
than the soft touch of my finger to yours.
in your eyes i am holy, a
promise of reckoning,
of forgiveness,
of a tempest no god can tame, and
i am yours to take into your adoring hands—warm
with veneration, shaking with humility—yours
to hold up to the light.
i could find constellations on your skin
and trace your fragility in a tumbling line back
to your core,
as all roads lead to rome. there could be honour
in love.
love, the honour is mine.