What Was Once

I find peace in the memory of his voice, solace in the comfort of his embrace, bliss in the touch of his lips, and sanctuary in the depths of his eyes. Never shall I take thee for granted. I shall trust in that which is my heaven. For when the clock ticks too loud in my ears, the king comes to quiet it. The king of clocks. All of time itself bows down in his presence. And I stand beside him hand in hand in awe. Of all the loves, of all the losses, of all the pain and fears in the life I have lived, none could compare to the bliss, nor dampen it. He is my rock, my heart, my universe. All the cosmos are in jealousy, for the cold stars could never thought to feel such a warmth and love that I have been blessed. I stand at his right hand and his left is at my heart. I am a sinner and a saint in his eyes, and he loves them both. Never have I felt so complete. Not a servant, but a lover. Not a pebble, but a gem. His sad beauty paints a masterpiece across my soul. The brush strokes the colours making a symphony of the most beautiful tune. And in such a flow, I may rest. I may stand in the world, in all my rags and all my decor, a mere Christmas bulb, nevertheless with one meeting of his eyes, I am naked, fragile, and yet, unjudged. I am myself, my skin, my heart, and still, he desires nothing else. He sees inside where no one has sought before. I am free. The strength and heart of him is as pure as gold and impenetrable as the finest armor. I stand beside him, and marvel at the perfection of him. For that which is his, was once my own, given to him, gladly, in trust and adoration beyond any other. My king of clocks, oh my dear, sweet king of clocks, I love you.