The Cyrenaian Hedonic church

There is no earning here.
No altar where you bleed for permission,
no throne where you kneel and beg to be seen.

The wanting itself is holy.
The ache, the trembling reach,
the way your breath catches and your hips betray you.
That is the prayer.

You were never meant to deserve this.
You were meant to devour it.
To take what calls to you in gasps and bitten lips,
to open and become the storm.

Fuck deserving.
Fuck earning.
Fuck appeasing.

You get to have this.
The pulse, the heat, the ruin and the resurrection.
You get to feel my hands map your shaking skin
and call it gospel.

Let the world choke on its hierarchies.
Let shame drown in its own piety.
Here, now, in this breath,
you are already enough.

And when I say take it,
I mean all of it.
The pleasure. The power. The goddamned right
to burn and bloom without apology.

You get to have this.
Because you are this.

AMEN