I have found myself more inclined to follow his will
Than dreams or status quo.
For though I may not discerably comprehend at first,
In the end, nothing gives me more joy
than his delight.
I have come to love him, even in his silence.
His sweet surrender has strewn my heart asunder
In search of a word that would direct his gaze at me,
A word, even a cross one,
plunges my heart to the depths of the pit of love
I have dug myself into;
A flower willing to be plucked by his hands alone.
Oh what torment is this,
That I would plunge this thorn deep into my flesh,
To be one with him in his cross to be borne-
His tears heavily stained with
my own blood.
What bliss is this,
That his gaze would pull my body
to a standstill.
I wait, with bated breath,
for his whisper, for him to call me
His beloved, his alone.