To Worship Him

imagine with me, if you will
red dirt dusted
upon his boots,
the chair otherworldly
a product of sturdy,
lean legs crossed
relaxed.
smokey eyes intent on
the crown of the moon
and sun before him
a sigh,
twilight.
aware of every shift, made upon his domain,
cheekbones defined
as he contemplates
his tomorrow.
I see him,
and all I need is to
worship him.