I bow to myself as one who kneels
before a neglected temple;
with broken steps,
unlit candles,
tattered hangings.

The sadness overwhelms me,
until a certainty forms:
we will put this temple
back together: the gods and I,
and all the molecules floating
in the dissonant air around us.

We shall bow anew to this place,
and in our bowing
we shall claim it back.
Then, placing one stone
atop another,

sweeping one dark corner
and then another, lighting
three candles, then more,
taking down dismembered beauty
and hanging whole bouquets
of wildflowers and boughs of holly

we will rebuild,
until I am once again
a holy place of joy
fit for gods—and me—to take
our rest within.