The Hangers-On (To Her Glory)

If love is a religion, god is a woman, and this is the story of how I found a faith that lasts.

The Hangers-On (To Her Glory)

I have seen The Icon
I was not asked for my devotion,
But I gave it freely

I knelt before The Epic
When asked why I worshipped,
No words did my reasons justice

I saw the beauty of living Art
But all art has beauty
For beauty alone I would not go half as far

A pilgrimage to Mecca
To look inside The Heart
With The Icon’s gaze averted, I can safely start

I pray at Your Temple
At two every morning
And find there a thousand other hangers-on to Your Glory

I basked too long in reverence
At The Icon of my age
And took all my devotion up, confined it to the page

I will speak freely of Her Majesty
From my tiny, private stage
Even though I whisper, my tongue is un-afraid

I must have been a fool to think
I was the only blind man who could see
The light that shines from angel’s eyes does not shine only for me

Though I am blessed still, in Her company
The Redemption Song that She will sing
Will not be sung for me

I am not made whole in idle worship
This is no great tragedy
The Idol that refuses, now can be set free

The Pilgrim tells the story
Of the endless joy of being
One of the multitudes of hangers-on, hanging from Her Glory

The High Priestess set forth rituals
And She, and I commenced
To burn the candles, Fear and Love, with the flame of desirelessness

Before I left, I took The Vow
And every word I meant
There are others still, in Her Temple, let them pay the rent

I took with me a golden statue
And on it carved The Name
In between the missing letters, read all the ways we are the same

Into the shrine I etched a diamond
One for every way I forgot to Love
Then I scratched a million lines, for all that I did wrong

I am a humble, devout servant of The Heart
The Icon has divined for me
The lines between Life, and Love, and Art

My longing was acknowledged
My heart seen in a truer state
In new light my flawed desire seemed so out of place

I bow before Your Alter
Light a candle that will burn as bright, as long
As this humble pilgrim will go wand’ring on

Though my midnight serenade will fade, and then be gone
I’m grateful to have dwelt in a Holy place for so long
I will cherish the small salvation that has been granted me

While employed as a hanger-on to Her Glory


Sonny Giordano, Valentine Media(c), 2010