With all the darkness that is left to be relieved,
How do smiling eyes become so easy to believe.
As a wandering lover,
I stray from my bed only to sleep in the cold,
And as I lay on the centerfold,
I drap a disguise of the tears left untold.
For there are no craddling arms that do hold me near,
No sadness lingers once they are shed for this year.
As a serpant in the shell,
Crushed under the pressure that they decend from hell,
What is left but eyes to bloom so weary and cold,
And lips left lone to bear no affection.
If a heart were given away,
Would you accept it,
If the body were to be resurrected.
So as I take my place on the stone altar of night,
I wait for the restless fire of desire to awake me and make it right,
Who's arms will hold me,
With lips supple and filled with passion.
For even as it seems alone,
I know there is a love waiting for me to grab ahold and allow them to claim to thee,
Just who is this face that clings to be?
As I drape cloth across thy breast who is it that dare make attest,
For no ring placed,
Nor I a prize to be won,
No honor hath been asked for me to bear a son,
Love hath blesssed this heart once before,
Breaking it to pieces as a way to bring it forth.
But now who shall bear its nature,
In all its firey delights,
As I am no man's claimed manger,
In which to hold a man's rights.
So on this cold altar I wait for a touch to save me through the blind of sight.

Emera Knaake

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pondering-altar-by-emera/