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ON THE ALTAR



(setting: church; a wedding ceremony.Thematic pre-occupation: choosing between love and lust.)













To say I do, is death to choose,
Will I not bleed, if I sign this truce?
To hold you close is pain to side.
Will I not die, if you be my bride?
Though beauty bows before your throne,
For beside you beauty is stone:
Your eyes are from Venus' source,
Seducing me without a pause,
Your lips like that of Mona Lisa,
That could turn a king to a kisser.
Your hips as high as the Everest,
Going side by side without a rest.
Your touch like that of a pure spring,
Touching me, I dance to a tring tring.
But are all this not vain, my dear,
If for beauty only, hips and lips I care,
Will you not run from me
And me from thee
When time is old,
And when the lust in us is cold?
If I agree to say I do,
Will I not at last receive a boo
From hatred, lust and odium too!
For shame will be mine at last,
If I die without a true lover's cast.
If I sign this paper and book,
Then forever, with thee, am sure to hook.
Then if am asked, who is my bride for real,
My reply shall be a harlot from Babylon’s heel.

 To stop such feelings from being born,
Then from this holy altar, must I swiftly run.
For to say I do to you is death,
A love of lies that as no breath

  MIDE BENEDICT

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