In that moment, he knelt down to pray
in the luscious garden between the two towers
that held her torso up to the sky.
But he wasn't praying to any god.
No.
He was mouthing hymns of devotion directly into her tissues,
rattling her bones more deeply than any holy organ pipes possibly could.
And as the melody of love reverberated in the core of her divine vessel,
the saccharine rain of the gods dripped from the heavens,
saturating his angelic lips.
Oh, oh, oh, how sweet it was for him,
to be blessed with the sapidity of that sublime nectar.
And as she lay there,
wrapped in pious rapture,
she knew she was in the presence of an angel.
A seraph willing to worship every inch of that sacred temple.