Divinity

I spend my sunrise breathing His praise
Afraid of the failing night
yet I bask in the light of His presence
for prayers go unanswered when He's gone.

Another instant I am left breathless,
Another second of fallacious hope,
Another moment of worship at His temple.
I try to speak of His beauty internal
and my bounty of words falls short.
So I linger silently, as sunlight
transforms His skin to gold.

What raises a love so yawning
in the nights when we speak?
This love is destructive,
One-sided, fated to implode,
A priestess of a man, not a God.

I see no being has reached perfection
nearly as close as Him.
What is the lesson I should have learned?
My false idol, I will be true.