She has travelled from far to be here.
She is naked.
Her face upturned, her hair cascading onto her pale shoulders. The reverent light from a dozen candles is bathing her skin. Her eyes are shining.
In them I can see my own solemn, intense. devout reflection.
The night is silent, fragrant with incense, sublime with devotion, hushed still by this moment.
This sacred, divine, wondrous, holy moment.
This is my religion.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant.
Painting stolen from dzwizard1954