into the mystery

the secret of heather
spills into daylight
there are nubile spirits
roaming Elysian fields
we will rest here
amoung the tender leaves
of passion,
we will ignite the flame
within
and show each other
the light
we will die a little every day,
until the scent absorbs us.

the fresh cut grass has stories to
tell. everything is holy, everything
is flame and water
we write into poems..