Walking around the corner, the man who worships the Goddess, in all of Her glory, stood there, wide-eyed and wondering if She would pay him any mind. As She approached, he stood to the side, looking down, paying respect deserved of a Goddess, not wanting to meet eyes.
"Hello my servant," The Goddess whispered, not wanting anyone to know there were words spoken.
"My Goddess," answered the hollow man, avoiding eye contact, knowing that if he had, She would have spit on him.
"Follow me, young fool," She ordered.
Doing what was demanded, without looking up, only looking at the reigning feet, as if they were gold, priceless, and out of reach, the walk continued reaching a bench, under the shady green trees. Dusk was setting, giving the air a cool sense and turning the sky colors of red, yellow, orange, and purple mixed with dark blue. Remembering these colors, he reflected that these are the colors made when bruises are created, made first of red, purple, mixed with dark blue, and then the hues of green and yellow blending into nothingness.
Sitting on the bench, the order for the servant to stand behind the Goddess was made and not to make a sound.
"Work!," She stated.
He knew what She wanted and did so. Flexing the muscles around the neck, shoulders, and spine until the muscles were wrenched into soft mounds, ready to stretch comfortably in any direction, he worked the acid from aching tissues. He was careful, though, never to touch the skin, only to massage through the loose clothing.
Turning around, looking at the fool, She told him to come before Her, lay down on the floor in front of Her feet, and adore all the beauty set before him.
"Gaze upon me, servant, watch how My eyes look down upon your weak little body, only My beauty cannot be surpassed by any other. You will not find one as lovely as Me. My attributes far surpass any other female who should desire to walk on this green grass."
"My eyes are like pure blue water, without any green to pollute them. They are so pure, that if you look closely, you can see your reflection within. My skin is pink and fragrant as the softness of a rose petal, once touched by a man, spoiled. Thus, you may not touch Me because your salt, spilled upon My flesh by your dirty fingertips would always leave a scar. My neck, long and strong holds the beauty of My face framed by the golden strands of My hair, reflecting the sun's rays and blinding your eyes when seeing Me, but yet wanting to look again, only to be blinded by the radiance."
"My arms, strong from the using help me to push away the men who crowd around Me, always wanting to follow. But, as I reach out, I only choose one lucky enough to follow Me, who stares at My strong legs."
"Yes, My legs can outlast you, for you are a weakling. I despise your hollowed-in chest, a disgusting sight to My eyes. Therefore, I look away and am occupied, looking far away from the gaspers, like you, who are wishing they too, were on the ground admiring all My beauty."