God is in the gentle curve of your smile,
In the loosening of your shoulders,
The sigh and sag of your body.
Divinity is in your tenderness.
Your face caressing my face, the way silk sheets run off hot soft skin.
In the crack of your voice when it hums into a groan.
A pantheon is made of the rising and falling timbres of your laughter.
You are an engulfing wonder.
Swallowing all in your midst, without the slightest hint to fathom.
And so gracefully,
Your eyes could sway death to retire.
You’ve crucified and resurrected me relentlessly with the slightest glance.
You haven’t the faintest.
And you wouldn’t want to if you could.
It all means nothing to you.
To do things so magnificently, as you do.
-I suppose for a God, to note such things would to be linger on the mediocre.
Greatness is so ordinary to you.