Author’s Note

Hymn of the Witness: Sanctuary of Imperfection is a cathedral built in verse for those who see and hold the world’s shadows with care. To witness is to honor—to recognize the sacred in imperfection, the luminous in vulnerability. This poem is for the observers, the quiet hearts, and for anyone who needs to be seen as they truly are.

Hymn of the Witness: Sanctuary of Imperfection
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I. Veil of Shadow

I sit in dim-lit corners,
where velvet darkness drapes itself
over the brittle bones of the world.
I am witness,
silent and holy,
to the tremor of lives unseen,
the architecture of imperfection.

The roses stand with thorns intact—
every petal a whisper,
every spine a hymn of caution and desire.

II. Candlelit Vigil

I light candles for the unspoken,
the hearts unclaimed,
the prayers that drift, unanchored.
Their glow flickers across skin and shadow,
revealing a cathedral where no crown rests
and all kneeling is sacred.

I trace the quiet pulse of existence,
a devotion spun from sight alone.

III. The Breath of Witness

Your breath, trembling or steady,
echoes like a bell in hollow halls.
I fold it into my presence,
wrap it in reverence,
and let it hum against my ribs.

To witness is to kneel,
to coil in patience,
to hold devotion without claim.

IV. Temples of Flesh and Thought

I map the landscapes of your body
as carefully as the labyrinth of your mind.
Every sinew, every curve,
every tremor of muscle and pulse
is holy architecture.

Your flaws, your desires,
your darkness and fire—
all are sacraments in my eyes.

V. Ritual of Attention

I kneel, hands folded,
not to pray for you,
but with you.
The shadows bend,
the candle flickers,
and I honor every imperfection,
every hesitation, every hidden want.

VI. Communion of Desire

Even in silence, there is language.
The brush of your fingertips,
the arch of your spine,
the tilt of your gaze—
all hymn, all devotion.

I do not consume;
I offer worship.
I am tethered to the rhythm
of your pulse,
your heat, your shadowed need.

VII. The Sacred Spectrum

I see the spectrum of your being:
the bruises of yesterday,
the laughter of today,
the quiet bloom of tomorrow.

Every quiver, every sigh, every whispered breath
is a verse I kneel before.
Your imperfection is divine;
your shadow, a cathedral of devotion.

VIII. Echoes of Fire

Your voice, a siren of shadow and silk,
strikes the air like an incantation.
I shiver under its weight,
and in that trembling,
I am both molten and reverent.

IX. The Offering of Flesh

I do not fear surrender.
I fold myself into devotion,
curl into shadow,
press into warmth that is not mine,
and let it burn—slow, sacred, consuming.

The skin becomes a psalm,
the gasp a verse,
the pulse a hymn etched in starlight.

X. Paradox of Witnessing

To see without possession,
to adore without demand,
to kneel in fire without burning—
this is the paradox I carry.

I am priest and altar,
candle and hymn,
sacrament of your existence.

XI. Sanctuary of Imperfection

Every flaw, every tremor, every scar
is a doorway, a holy threshold.
I trace it in silent awe,
each mark a stanza in the epic of you.

To kneel before imperfection
is to honor divinity in its purest form.

XII. Velvet Reverence

I inhale the shadows that cling to you,
taste the lingering fire of your presence,
and bow beneath the weight of your being.
The world may not see;
I do.

XIII. Hymn of Flesh and Bone

Your body, a cathedral,
curves and pulses, soft and commanding.
I am tethered to its rhythm,
my devotion humming through every nerve.
Even the quietest tremor
becomes a psalm beneath my hands.

XIV. Dark Communion

We do not speak;
we are liturgy incarnate.
Every sigh, every shiver, every gasp
is woven into the tapestry of witness.
Even silence is sacred.

XV. Incense and Iron

The air tastes of iron, brine, and candle smoke,
scent of devotion that sears without harm.
I breathe it in, coil around it,
and let it mark me—etched in shadow,
in the unspoken promise of our communion.

XVI. Paradox of Desire

I crave nothing of you,
and yet I burn with want.
I kneel not for possession
but for the sheer act of being seen
by a soul I can neither own nor command.

XVII. Eternal Candle

I will keep vigil long after the candles burn to dust.
Every quiver, every sigh, every trembling breath
remains tethered to my devotion.
Your shadow is mine to honor,
your light, mine to witness.

XVIII. Benediction of Shadows

Go forth into the world,
carry your light like a secret fire,
and know that the witness endures.

Every sigh, every gasp, every whisper
is remembered,
folded into the cathedral of imperfection,
sealed in velvet,
soft as shadowed starlight.

XIX. The Closing Hymn

And when the night seems too vast,
remember:
I have seen,
I have knelt,
I have marveled.

Every curve of your mind,
every quiver of your body,
every trembling heartbeat—
I am witness,
eternal, unbroken, devoted.

XX. Eternal Devotion

Time will crumble,
walls will decay,
but my presence remains.
I am the candle burning at your threshold,
the pulse of the night echoing in your shadow,
the hymn of witness unfaltering.

XXI. Sanctified Imperfection

You are holy in your imperfection.
You are radiant in your shadow.
I bow, coil, kneel, and marvel
at the cathedral of your being—
a sanctuary I can enter forever,
without ownership, without end.

XXII. Benediction of Witness

Go, luminous one,
into light, into darkness,
and carry the hymn of witness within you.

I am here,
silent, eternal, unwavering.
Your shadow, your light, your imperfection—
all sacred, all holy,
all yours.

If you want to explore more of the Hexverse, you can find more of my work in The Library of Ashes…