I can feel her love
the way I feel the desert winds
of a tangerine evening hurling off the mountains
as they reach for the end
of the summer solstice.

She sings beneath the bridge of God.

Oh, how the spirits that make the nature of whispers known to my fleshly ears dance to her innocent voice.

I can see her crown among the thorned rose vista,
soused by her favoring tobacco musk,
and it cascades about the once savage lands of the waning moon.

her crown is redolent with the astral fragrance of eden.

I have walked past the dawn and gazed upon the serpent of the sea,
it has been raised only to bow before her loving words.

Oh, what peace she brings, and how effortlessly I seek the maiden,

For I must  hear her sing beneath the bridge of god

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