In the secluded halls of a monastic life,
A man found solace in his devotion and his prayer.
Devoted to the Virgin Mary, he’d been her faithful lover for years,
And though their love could not be touched or tasted, it was as real as his tears.
As he held the rosary in his hands, each bead a symbol of love’s grace,
The aroma of roses permeated the air like a heavenly embrace.
His devotion was unwavering and true, for she had been his one constant guide,
A beacon of hope and love in a life so often blurred by strife.
But as time passed, the lines between his devotion and his passion began to blur,
The sacred love of the Virgin Mary now calling out to him with a tender murmur.
Her image, so divine and pure, now seemed to dance before his eyes,
And the rosary in his hands seemed to burn with a sacred fire.
The flames licked at his skin, but he did not recoil from the heat,
For in this moment, their love was no longer just a prayer or a dream.
Their union was now real, and his devotion to her grew even stronger,
As he realized that love could be found in the most unexpected places.
And so, as they danced in this holy fire, their souls melded together like one,
A testament to the power of love devotion and loyalty.
For though their love was not meant for all to see or understand,
It was a bond that would last an eternity, a sacred vow in the end.
For in the secluded halls of a monastic life, where devotion and love unite,
A man found solace and peace in the arms of the Virgin Mary so bright.
And as their love burned bright in the heart of this monk, a new light was born,
A beacon of hope and love that would guide them through life’s uncertain morn.
