Be honest.

I wrote this as a sort of response to something that someone on another blog wrote in relation to my blog name. I'm not sure if I should post it here, if this is the right place for it. But I figure I'll see what the response is, so please be brutally honest and tell me if you think I should try and post more stuff like this...

My Lost God.

Have you seen my lost god?

I was always able to find him before

in the crisp dry pages of some old book

of lore. Or in the subtle manipulations of movements,

the bended knee and the bowed head.

He used to linger on my lips

long after I spoke his name. And move

down my throat, all sharp and sweet

leaving me sated, needing

to say his name yet again.

Have you seen him?

He once marked me as his own

with his cut and my blood.

His blood.

Binding me to him.

We were bound with leather cords

cold and black and tied to my heart.

Two sided straps, sleek and shiny

on top, rough and earthy against my skin,

wrapped tightly, engraving their tight circles around my arm.

Have you found him?

He left signs for me to follow.

Signs for me, and on me, and in me.

And for so long I followed that winding path

of repeated rituals and rites and prayers .

Until I followed that circle back to its start

and found the heart of what my god had always been,

only a part of the mind of men.

And at that moment I got lost,

and found that I was my lost god.