The maker of passion
Fights for my freedom to live and love
Not only tonight, but forever...
Hold my hand and follow me
Down to the river
To quench down love's thirst.
Our calabashes
Are kites in the wind,
Whirling and swirling hard;
Until the weather
Hurts
Our certainty.
Though we are not
Rich kings and queens—
We shall drink with our palms.
We have keys to our palace bedroom.
Where we shall dine,
Drink and sleep.
With love around,
Our refuge-place
Shall be felt like a sacred garden
To practice the blood drawing kiss
And celebrate our honeymoon!
Let me hang in your arms,
With equitable weight,
Not only now
But enduring endless time.