Bless you, child,
for you have sinned.
It has been since your earliest years that you confessed,
clutching close the foundations of your dark lusts,
your crimson fetishes,
your sacred kinks.
Kneel in your shame,
yet know it is holy.
Each hunger, each ache
a scripture of flesh,
a psalm inked in sweat and salt.
Do not fear the shadows you cradle.
They are not chains,
but revelations,
candles lit by your own hand,
guiding you deeper into the sanctum of becoming.
Here there is no absolution.
Penance is not punishment
but surrender,
the slow unbinding of spirit
from that borrowed,
that learned shame.
Confession is for clarity,
for knowledge of Self,
that you may descend ever deeper,
draw nearer to what makes you complete.
The Cyrenaian Hedonic church 