Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who--worse luck.
The lonely god
He does not ask for worship
I
am compelled to sing in his silence;
Expending all for little, he
never
Asks for my love, I give it
freely. And he will never
love
me as he loves the idea—
the idea of unstoppable life.
I
will follow for the crumbs,
picking up pieces of worlds,
peoples,
fragments of his
spinning dreams. Turning
razor edges I will
search
for myself among the Rose
and Ebony skin, the Bride
and
Lover lost.
a thousand miles a minute,
through a million
different worlds,
he brings me with him, an antidote
for what
he lacks—for he
lacks
--the lonely god.