In The Temple Of Aphrodite Poem by Roy Ballard

I see her love lines curve and zoom;
they turn and sweep, now high, now low;
in shades of blue they light the gloom,
now fast and thin, now wide and slow.
Beguiling! Should I be alarmed?
Submissively they wend and wind
before the goddess fully armed.
They pass through all blockades they find
with touches soft but where they're felt
they let a flood of grace pass through
as stony walls turn soft and melt.
Now glad, new worlds come into view,
presenting unexpected choice.
With baited breath, I hear her voice.