Sing onto me without exaltation,
The murmur of a butterfly’s glow.
And have you not knowingly come with your self righteous explanation,
Sing with me soft somethings I do not know.
Further about without courting this sorrow,
I release all this alchemy of pain.
And as I lay the seeds of poppies on my altar,
I further allow blooming, but once again.
Sing in a spiral with your arm outstretched,
Kiss your fingers like petals on the wind,
Then further let wander your heart on the drenched,
But soothing course of Neptunian waters rescind.
Sing onto me with all highest vibrations,
The life and the kiss of renewal.
And though your are mortal and lost of all lore and citations,
Sing yourself soft dewy things you now know of.
