He is driven by hunger, a need to fulfill his position, to give himself over in thought and expression, to submit his mind and body, to give and to be taken, to worship.
He prepares himself, removes all other thoughts from his mind, lays naked for his master, and with reverence, begins his evening prayers.
Lips closed, a soft moan begins deep in his chest as he wordlessly offers his appreciation for his task, his position, and his place beneath this altar. He slowly turns his head from side to side, remembering what it’s like to be stripped, laid bare, and possessed by something greater than himself. His lips move slowly as he collects his thoughts and focuses on his meditations.
Murmuring, murmuring, murmuring, his lips flutter through gentle thoughts and thanks and praises. He bows his head in reverence, eyes still fixed above. He opens up, giving more and more as it is taken. His prayers come more rapidly now as his tongue tastes sweetness and his lips feel warmth and softness opening to him.
As he plunges deeper into his devotions, his body rocks steadily, rhythmically. He speaks in tongues, lips wrapping around silent syllables, mouth possessed. He opens wide and sucks deeply now, thirsty, wanting, and so close.
As he closes his eyes, breath and sound are taken from him and he can no longer move freely. The pressure increases and he is rocked by a force outside his body. He surrenders, lets it take him, sinks deeper, and awaits his reward.
The warmth washes over his face, and more than wanting breath, he is overcome with thirst and drinks deeply, taking every drop inside himself, swallowing, choking, as he begins to slip away. At that moment, he is a drowning man, consumed by that which he consumes.
As light and sound and breath are returned to him, he knows his prayers have been accepted.
When he prays, I see God.