in the wintertime, when the trees are bare and white.
a veil of sweet mystery surrounds the light of the lanterns.
a dancing tune so honeyed that the women cannot flee.
we come together under the stars and move our supple bodies with the cool breath of the night.
there under the iridescent light of the moon, we join together our hands and sing holy melodies.
lustrous evening by the simplistic understanding of each other.
we move our voluptuous selves to the steady beating of our sanctified drums.
the night flowers blooming in their sacred virginity.
a grand glowing field of white supplement to our midnight feast of spiritual tuning.
this winter solstice, a sundry spurring of our night life.
to die upon the ultimate alter of life's undulating flow and to give back what we have taken.
she lowers her breast to the fields upon which we have spoken to let us drink of the holy vow she has taken in our stead.
trusting in nature and the mother to guide us, we illustrate our needs to unite.
we wrap into each others yielding naked souls and seal each hand with a kiss.
they entreat themselves to our care and we take caution when we hold them, drunken, in our slender arms.
they slip into their reveries, content with the day's toasting, and we leave them by the river's edge to sleep away their charms.
into the night we go, ballasting each other as we ride on the laughter of our hosts.
on our steads we go, into the dark with a starry trail in our wake.
you might hear us on our journey singing this chorus:
"Breathe in the stardust, breathe in the flame.
dance till your body gives and all is consumed again.
fall upon the fire in your haste to go to rest.
we dump your body in the mire and feel each mother's child beating in our breast."