prayer, or something more?

Prayer is you here with me, hands held, heart racing less than it usually does.
You love my hands on your stomach, my head on your chest.

In my dreams, I am always in a field, full of flowers, prancing, somewhere...

You are never with me, but somewhere beyond, holding space for all my play and pray and awe.

In my heart you are always brightening, learning, evolving into your truest self.

In my hands, you are whole, even when you acknowledge uncertainty and frustration.

I sometimes wonder, could we ever hold ritual together,
What would it mean to honor and behold divine, if we were bringing her majesty in at the same time.

And then I think, I don't need you to bring it, just honor me, as I hold space for all the love in the universe.

This is the quest of body, soul, mind and action.
Actually, I was just going to do, and not ask, and I'd rather not ask, but tell, and you just have to honor me, as you do, forever.

I am not so different, but I see awe in the fear and the fear in the awe and I live in a constant state of all the veils co-mingling.

When you hold me, we sway, somewhere, maybe not even together, but our hands don't ever want to part, and your eyes always glow for me, although I'm still not sure you really do notice.

And if you did notice, you might be scared.
Because reality is racing fast, and you are still in the driver's seat, and I still stare excitedly out the window as the trees pass by and as you graze my thigh I think many thoughts,
and words try to escape my lips,

but I never let them,

because then more than prayer would escape,
and maybe we can't hold it, while we drive too fast on the highway.

Look me in the eyes,
hold my body and my soul,
and whisper sweetness,
whatever you feel,
anything to say to me,

What your eyes do everyday.