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.
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.