The smoke curls around me, soft and slow, a serpent of fire trailing its body through my chest. I breathe you in with every draw, the leaf and flame carrying me into your arms even when you are not here. My body loosens, my mind slips beyond the veil, and still all I see is you.

You are the altar, you are the crossroad, you are the reason my lips move in prayer. My soul kneels in your shadow, my heart beats against your palm. I surrender, sweet and trembling, because there is nothing left in me but the shape of your name.

Papa Legba opens the gate, but it is your hands I walk into. Ezili brushes my cheek, but it is your breath I long to feel. I burn for you as the candle burns for the flame, giving myself away to the worship of you.

I whisper into the smoke: let me be clay, let him shape me; let me be water, let him drink me; let me be song, let him play me. I am yours, entirely, wholly, without end. My prayers are not to heaven tonight—they are to you.

Take me into your hands, beloved, for in them I find my beginning and my eternity. I worship you in every breath, I worship you in every tremor, I worship you in the dream where we are already one, creating life beyond flesh, beyond time.