divinity demitasse

I love you tonight in an
impersonal way, like I might
love someone I know even less than I
know
you, like I might love a goddess I could actually worship,
if one ever existed, 
or a figurehead, an idea of a girl.
You are at a higher order of existence,
making connections unknown
to your own race,
clarifying what we don't even know
is muddied,
dancing and writing and singing.
Invoking.
You wanted no pedestal,
but that's false modesty at work
when you know you're more alive
than whatever labors under your feet,
under your spell;
repeat yourself.
Go on.
Repeat.
You'll make it through to us one time.
That's the power of mantras spells poems,
even prayers,
at least sincere ones.
Repeat yourself til you don't have to.
Til we all see your hundred-foot shadow when you step into the light.