Imagine, if you will, traveling to a foreign land, a strange land where only a few have journeyed. There we come upon the ruins of an ancient civilization, now forgotten. Outlines of half-buried stones suggest the foundation of a once majestic temple. Portions of huge, broken marble columns lay scattered about as if some giant force had destroyed them. Wandering among these ruins, imagine the life once lived here. Our mind's eye can see the temple as it once must have been, glistening in the sunlight, a rectangular structure, spacious, with intricately carved pediments, its roof supported by the massive fluted columns. Beams of light from all angles penetrate the walls. Through the open doors we can peer into the inner sanctuary. A figure moves gracefully before the altar, illuminating it by bringing fire to the clay oil lamps all around. Behold the priestess of the temple of Venus, the goddess of love. She is the sacred prostitute. She is a mystery, concealed by veils. We see her only dimly. Yet in the flickering light we discern her shapely feminine outline. A breeze lifts her veils to reveal her long black tresses. Silver bracelets adorn her arms and ankles; miniature crescents hang from her ear lobes and lapis lazuli beads encircle her neck. Her perfume with its musklike aroma creates an aura which stimulates and enriches physical desire. As the sacred prostitute moves through the open temple doors she begins to dance to the music of the flute, tambourine and cymbals. Her gestures, her facial expressions and the movements of her supple body all speak to the welcoming of passion. There is no false modesty regarding her body, and as she dances the contours of her feminine form are revealed under an almost transparent saffron robe. Her movements are graceful, as she is well aware of her beauty. She is full of love, and as she dances her passion grows. In her ecstasy she forgets all restraint and gives herself to the deity and to the stranger. "A thousand pens of gold, and ink scented with musk," are needed to describe the feminine appeal, beauty and sensuality of this vision as she quickly passes through our mind's eye back into the dark recesses of the temple. Imagine the sacred prostitute greeting the stranger, a world-weary man who has come to the temple to worship the goddess of love. No words are spoken; her outstretched arms and the soft, warm expression of her radiant eyes and face say what needs to be said. In her private chambers, the sacred love-room of the temple, filled with the fragrance of herbs and flowers, she bathes the stranger, offering him balm. She tells him amusing stories of her traininghow the temple priests and other ritual priestesses taught her the art of love-making. "Keep your fingertips close to your knees and your eyes lowered. When you look sideways try to press your chin into your shoulder," she tells him, playfully mocking them. She prepares a tray of fresh dates, nuts and fruit which she lays before him, along with bread dipped in honey. The sacred prostitute and the stranger drink sweet wine from a single silver cup. She came to the temple, she tells him, in order to fulfill the law of the land, which every maiden must do. With reverence she speaks of her  devotion to the goddess as she approaches the small marble image of Venus. In the near darkness, alone in her rapture, she performs the ritual of lighting the perfumed oil lamp, gently swaying and chanting softly in prayer of thanksgiving to the goddess.  The stranger watches quietly and thinks to himself, How different she is from me, how strangely different! She is afraid of me, and my male difference. She is getting herself naked and clear of her fear. How sensitive and softly alive she is, with a life so different from mine! How beautiful with a soft strange courage, of life... How terrible to fail her, or to trespass on her! As the sacred prostitute turns back to the stranger she removes her saffron robe and gestures to him to stand before the image of Venus. He moves awkwardly at first, but deep within the stirring of his manhood gives impetus to strong strides. He kneels in honor before the goddess of passion and love, and offers a prayer of supplication that she will receive his offering. The sacred prostitute leads the stranger to the couch prepared with white linens and aromatic myrtle leaves. She has rubbed sweet smelling wild thyme on her thighs. Her faint smile and glistening eyes tell the stranger that she is full of desire for him. The gentle touch of her embrace sparks a fiery responsehe feels the quickening of his body. He is keenly aware of the passion within this votary to the goddess of love and fertility, and is fulfilled. The woman and the stranger know that the consummation of the love act is consecrated by the deity through which they are renewed. The ritual itself, due to the presence of the divine, is transforming. The sacred prostitute, now no longer a maiden, is initiated into the fullness of womanhood, the beauty of her body and her sexuality. Her true feminine nature is awakened to life. The divine element of love resides in her. The stranger too is transformed. The qualities of the receptive feminine nature, so opposite from his own, are embedded deep within his soul; the image of the sacred prostitute is viable within him. He is fully aware of the deep emotions within the sanctuary of his heart. He makes no specific claims on the woman herself, but carries her image, the personification of love and sexual joy, into the world. His experience of the mysteries of sex and religion opens the door to the potential of on-going life; it accompanies the regeneration of the soul.