Just Like God

Her interests, her life,
what she thought, what she felt
was of no interest to him.
He was more interested in the pedestal than the devotee.
It was her submissiveness, her meekness that attracted him to her.
Her total disregard for his mediocrity was the only appeal she held for him.
When he returned home every night, the world having made him acutely aware of his ordinariness, she sat at his feet and extolled his virtues.
She sounded like a connoisseur of deities, stamping her seal of approval on him as the unrivaled Supreme Being and in those moments his commonness transmuted into divinity.
Her unfounded adoration was what made him All Powerful over her; his sole worshiper.
Just like God, he found the veneration intoxicating.
Like God he realized that giving in to her wishes would decrease the intensity of her devotion.
And so just like God, he closed his eyes and turned his face, reveling in the sound of her voice eulogizing him.
And she kept on raising the pedestal higher and higher, out of her reach.
Just like any devotee, she continued in her futile search for that special moment when prayers are answered, those magical words which could arouse tenderness in God.
In her blindness she could not see, the higher the altar, the egoistical the God.
His love was her Holy Grail.
Her devotion his claim to divinity.