I confess that as a young girl I loved a man who was not meant for me. I confess I had a girlfriend who introduced me a different way of life, one I looked down upon at first but learned to embrace. I confess I became an escort, traded yearning for power, welcomed many rather than be owned by one. I confess I embraced a whores freedom over a wifes obedience. I confess I find more ecstacy in passion than in prayer. Such passion is prayer. I confess I pray still to feel the touch of my lovers lips. His hands upon me, his arms enfolding me... Such surrender has been mine. I confess I pray still to be filled and enflamed. To melt into the dream of us, beyond this troubled place, to where we are not even ourselves. To know that always, this is mine...