The Elated Confessant (My First Holy Confession)

The succulent lips of liberation 
sucked the wobble off 
my stuttering confession
in a single slurp of repentance.
Stunned to elated awe
as each guilt-ridden peccadillo
liquesced into 
absolving effervescence, 
such were the powers 
of my pious collard confessor, 
from where, 
in his mystical cupboard, 
rid me of my devilish stains.
Wrapped in panicked earnestness
and with impenetrable gusto,
I fervently honoured
that which I deserved: 
my given penance.
A rack of devotions 
offered on high, 
in heated haste, 
bowed, avowed 
on bare-bended knees, 
in sufferance: applauded, 
in prayer: adulated
until enrobed in
the ethereal veils of 
euphoria's benediction. 
I encored with a 
zest charged genuflection 
escorting me out from 
the cowl of darkness, 
cleansed in the crystal fountains 
of hallowed waters 
and into the paradisiacal 
joys of creation 
where I pirouetted madly
around the halos of salvation, 
warping and wafting 
in ecstatic choreography. 
Splendidly I, ablaze in
phosphorescent holiness, 
such brilliance exciting 
the gathering halleluiahs
into glorious detonations, 
scattering me about in 
the exalté atmosphere of giddiness.
I danced wild with forgiveness, 
blessedness swarming over me
as the heavens bellowed forth
in illuminated splendours, 
their gargantuan choirs 
pelting out psychedelic hosannas 
amongst the zigzagging flocks
of electric powered angels
riding bareback on the 
holy stoned lambs of merriment,
guffawing on high
whilst baying out,
‘Come on baby light my fire’.