Goddess

You are a Goddess, perfect in every way. And I am your humble worshipper, kneeling at your altar, praying to get just a glimpse of your beauty, even though I though I know it will not satisfy me. I am drawn to you like a moth to a flame. When you enter a room, everything holds its breath in silent homage to the glory that is you. Your voice is like a symphony that warms my blood and tickles my ears. I long for you as a starving man longs for food, as a thirsty man longs for water, as a scholar longs for knowledge, as the oppressed long for justice, as the dying long for peace, as the tortured long for release. I want nothing more than to reach out and touch you, to stroke your lovely cheek, to caress your smooth skin. I cannot bear to look into your eyes, for I know that once I do I will be trapped, an unmoving statue, forever enraptured by the beauty I know is there to be found. Your radiance puts the sun to shame and even the stars know to dread your name, for their supremacy in the field of beauty has at last come to an end. I know that you will never be mine: no man deserves such bliss. So I ask only that I get the opportunity to know the woman behind the beauty, the mortal behind the Goddess.