Veneration

True worship is not standing over a dusty grave,
but to dance upon it.
True praises are the most damnable of blasphemies:
    lover's passionate utterances and promises,
    blood and tears,
    unholy unions.

The darkest corners of a lover's hell are where I have finally found Paradise.
The Perfect Blasphemy of worshiping a flawed being over the supposed perfection of an ageless God.

    To love you, you who will someday be bones that will crumble into dust and blow into nothing.
    The sweetest sin becomes the veneration of dust.
    I still will not falter in my love when your dust is all there is to touch.
    The Gods created me to know that you will die,
    and I still will not ever fail to love even your death.