by oosh
Long ago, tired of tawdry pomps, Far from the other, gold-encrusted shrines, Someone laid a plain white stone – Unadorned, Unlit – and inscribed it to you. Only now I see, at epoch's close, Glimpsed through the veil of your tresses Sheltered by soft lashes – shy Yet not shy – The light within a woman's eye. Here the light which renders all else darkness: Here is all the glory of the temple: These two lights, the sacred candles, And your body The naked altar of the Unknown God.