Spirituality: House of Worship

"Tu as pris mon cœur, ma sœur, mon épouse, tu as pris mon cœurpar un de tes yeux, avec une chaîne de ton cou." KJV, Song of Solomon 4:9

I am Nox’s son, Father/Brother/god
That brings the revelation of flesh,
All the manna of our souls falling through the air,
All your curses moving me on,
As I pulse in the rhythm of your Angel-sweet body
Entering your temple in awe
And in ecstasy.


We are the congregation lascivious, rocking in hunger,
Writing our prayers in friction
As we speak in tongues that dance as they taste
And testify at the top of our lungs.
We bow our heads in rapture
From the give and response of
Physical hymns.


I am the cardinal in pantherskin, preacher/predator,
Sermonizing as I prey;
Every verse written in fluids primal
And quoted from the holy book of our bodies,
Anointed in our own oils,
My rod comforting you,
Your body Communion sweet.


We are the Choir of the dark, sinsinging,
Harmonizing, in the clapping of our soma,
While mouths drip the holy waters of our passion:
Sweet, musky wine and hot salty lyrics,
Psalms that bounce off the walls
As we duet the mantra of desire.
Percussion in the House of Worship.


I am the Thunder, nightskinned lightning,
Bringing the storm of ecstasy,
The rain that falls from your thighs,
My voice booms as I strike deep
And electrify the flower in your temple,
Making it bloom
Making you shout.


We are the Church of the Erotic, holy and profane,
Righteous in Our Name, sinners in our blood,
Making an offering of all our passions,
Calling God with our psyches,
Bodies pulsing with the infinite beat
Of the Heart in the heart of hearts,
Cumming soulward and seeking Heaven.


Amen.