#godcrush

Honesty and transparency from me, for frightfully beautiful Mêlinoê.

If I wanted to describe myself in idealistic terms:

a romantic fool, a daydreamer, a fragile hoper, a storyteller.

Ruled near entirely by a heart connected to a brain often on the fritz.

Someone else who knows You told me You’re incredibly patient,

that all You wish is that one be perfectly clear with You.

With oneself, even, and I get that.

No evasion, no self-deluding, no nothing that could get in my own way.

The initial anxiety of getting to know You is normal, they said,

it’s Your normal, powerful aura, Your natural energy—

quite strong, intensely there, unapologetically real.

That You’re a great deal warmer than most would expect,

gentler, and

understanding of the human condition, maybe this is why You’re called “Dark-Minded.”

Haunting woman,

multifaceted and layered.

As goddess of ghosts, whispering specters, all spirits of the dead roaming Earth,

I suppose I wouldn’t mind meeting some if You willed it.

Heck, You could even give me of an inkling of Your own presence.

I do admit to getting spooked, but I’m braver than I used to be,

no longer so vulnerable.

(Largely since I’m not as self-hating anymore. Other deities have helped me with that bit.)

I trust that You wouldn’t send anything bad my way.

I can build up a tolerance.

I don’t wanna bite off more than I can chew there, but then again,

…do I truly know everything I’m capable of handling?

Will I surprise myself? Shock myself?

Or indeed get overwhelmed, growing from it?

Both outcomes are fine, ultimately.

I want to reach out, to learn new things, to get to know You, to understand You, too,

(it’s only fair, a connection goes both directions)

perhaps differently than I’ve come to know others in my practice, if You’ll allow it.

I’ll make devotional artwork for You, I think, alongside finishing this poem, soon.

What great motivation for new creative projects: a pretty lady. (I ain’t slick…)

If I’m rushing into everything, I apologize, but I wanna tell You:

when I first read Your name online, acknowledgment crept upon me slowly,

a note with “MÊLINOÊ!” subtly written on it, tacked to a proverbial corkboard in my head,

out of leftfield, almost. I admit it was partially because of a story I’m penning

which involves ghosts deeply as part of its worldbuilding.

I thought I could incorporate You into the tale somehow, maybe I still can.

Yet there was something more, quietly swirling in me, than merely that.

I didn’t really recognize it as a full interest, because I couldn’t find much “about” You,

I may also just not have looked hard enough—I’ll fix that soon.

I essentially denied anything meaningful was there.

But now that You’ve returned to my awareness,

I am more educated than before,

not the same individual I was only months, weeks, days, hours ago.

I feel newer all over again with the rise of every morn, each sun’s set, stroke of midnight,

during the best of times, and the most hurtful times.

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