My Love is Steel

I take a sip of Earl Grey tea

and my mind travels to the Lady Athena:

She of the steel eyes.

She of the steel spear.

She of the steel wisdom.

Sometimes I feel Her gaze upon me and I am terrified.

(ice can burn you if it's cold enough)

She is my patron,

and I worship Her,

and I love Her,

and I fear Her.

(such is divinity)

Yet I build no shrine to Her.

Her breath animated the clay from which I was formed,

and I feel it stretching at my lungs.

The body is the temple to me,

but the mind is Hers.

History and philosophy and science and literature:

These are my offerings,

and my reward.

Sometimes I manage to clear away the dirty cups and used train tickets

and I light a flame in the owl's eyes.

She is with me.

And I am comforted. And I am afraid.

She will not hold my hand

as I grope my way through blindness.

Instead I feel Her palm at my back,

driving me onwards.

She is steel and She is a blade

and She is joy, to me,

and an awe, to me,

Her adoring

(if erratic)

devotee.