In the mysterious grotto of your person, layered,slit and sculpted deep, shrub-scattered is the flower in bloom down below. Ancient and pagan, The silent lamp of love throbs and ebbs,flickers and flashes – Ceaselessly awake. Burning away, Beckoning me. While I stand by unbeknownst Seeking entry into the garden-gate of ecstacy, frenzied. A whirlwind of…
The Grotto
