Yet She Fawns And She Woos Poem by Robert Hilary

The holy celestial comes before me my soul, my muse, as she dances before me an ever burning light of the beauty within, singing to me a song of the beauty within, playing to me the music of deep within, the beautiful melody of the heart, which is her art, that plays a tune of her brilliant fire, that is the melody that fills the whole of me, kissing me in my origin, as the origin of my beginning, my muse, my soul, who I am as I am, as my muse, as my soul, the holy celestial, that comes before me a celestial daughter, as who I am within, married to me as the child within, consecrated as my wife, to whom before I am a child and a king, to who I am the lover and the man, and whom to me she is my lover, and my goddess. like a tidal wave of fire before my storm, burning with a blaze of holy fire, a tempest, a maelstrom of divinity, consecrated in her heart for her love for god. For she is a holy child, who kisses the floor before the throne with piety and love, with a burning heart, set aflame by the fire that burns within him which kindles the fire within the heart of the celestial daughter, his light shining in her being as a blaze that is illuminated by his illumination, that is bathed as she bathes in him, that is dressed by his nakedness, which he wears proudly truly, with his noble honor and royal grace, as a father naked before his child, who is naked before him, as only god may do with his daughter, as before her he wears his form proudly, and before him she has no shame, for she is truly baer before him, and his majesty, in the wholesome all consuming majesty of his true self, his majesty, the father almighty, who is truth embodied as the truth itself, for in his being as I am he is the truth in all its wholeness plain to see before the eyes of such as she, in all that he is laid bare before as who he is as the only true one, and as she in seeing him for who he is, fawns over him as a daughter, a servant, a child, a child lover, who has not reached the right neither in age nor height, to approach her father as a lover. Yet she fawns and she wooos, she bows, and she kisses and coos, as he humbly, gently but firmly denies her, yet with head bowed in stern command, commands her to hold her passion and lust, to subside, and she bows, with no hesitation, yet longing still burns in her. As she falls gracefully to her knees before him, with patient piety, ever with everything. And he addresses her with his noble gaze, as he sits upon his throne, awaiting her, as he listens and watches, softly speaking, patiently waiting, as she bows, he sees her every moment, hears every heart spoken whisper and word, every humble hopeful moan, every poorly hidden grin, baerely contained as she forces with discipline, composure in behavior before the lord. Until in piety bowed before him, awaiting him as he waits, he speaks to her in all his glory, in all his love, in all his authenticity, in all his honesty, and she hears them with an overflowing heart, that is full of honored reverence and endearing love, as she listens as a studious child, as he teaches her of many things, weaving with her stories, of his love for her, in many ways, always the lord, always the champion, always the strongest on top of the mountain, always the almighty, and she loves him for him, and who he is, and who he is to her, and who he has been to her, and all that he is for her, as the lord who is the creator. And she, bowed and humble, come before him, wanting only to love and please, wanting only to fulfill and cherish, as she treasures his every word, as she truly cherishes him, as the one that is all, the all that is one, the source, the only true one, the almighty. And he as the only true one, calls her his child, treats her as someone dear, someone special, to whom she belongs. To whom she is birthed debt, lovingly paid, to whom with all of her she is owed, and whom holds the keys to her heart, and knows her in a way which even she truly does not know herself. He loves her for her, just her, loves her for everything they have been through, and she loves him the same, known by his heart, and his name, as she sees him and knows the one she calls Pa, Grandfather Elohim, the source of all things, the highest creator, the only true one, the almighty, and she sees him with a childish heart, as a daughter would her lord, , and knows him as she radiates to see him radiate before her by his loving kindness as the loving divine, his valiant, noble demeanor, with a holy royal pose, and a manner that is of grace beyond providence, for he is of an ever flowing kindness that burns as a hot coal, in the heart of all who look upon it, though it may burn with the unfathomable brilliance of the unknowable knowing, the infinite source, the all of all, the source, the only true one, the almighty, endearing humor, the light in his eyes, a beautiful overwhelming love that is gentle, and with the sweetest touch, with just enough softness to fulfill to the brim, the overflowing cup of the heart. Who paves the road to him, with a watchful eye, a strong arm, and a guiding hand, with brilliance, with mastery, with an endowing wisdom that bestows the one with the wisdom to travel the road, from the first step, to the one that takes one before him. And to the last step, which is to the knees, begging for his embrace, let us make haste less we tarry, to meet the lord, at the end of the road.