His face drawn in five directions
In his hair the smell of almonds
A compass for the dreaming restless
To the prison in which he rustles

Coming down a distant cloud
Ripened bodies stand in line
To become a smooth receptor
For his love warrior-like

Flowers, burn me

Silken skin dressed in caresses
Lotuses drowned in every step
In his footsteps all converging
To forfeit now all control

Slipping through the mighty hands
Of all who claim to love
Let them enter unprepared
For the feast of all who wait

Flowers, burn me
Let me taste in all directions
Teach me the way

To give and give impulsively
To think that nothing else could exist
To be as vague as a verse
To describe that journey to him

Flowers, burn me
Let me taste in all directions
Teach me the way

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