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The female form sublime to seduce
as a serpent slithers through grass,
cold-blooded, but its poisons does
so make every mans blood warm
for its the beat of life which beats
as it bites into veins and in grasp
do we die, die and are reborn :
As children we played on its fields
into adulthood do we then come
only to be as lovers once were
in adorations is it set for a crown
which is of scales, not of thorns,
of the beds on which we lay
to make love, in loves grasp too
did we die, die to be reborn.
For without is withering autumn
which into barren, icy lands turn
then as springs come, does it lash
into us again, rises from grass
into its eyes do we gaze, silently
I adore our deaths every year
for from the coils of our worship
does spring sparks of electricity
as we die, die, springs life anew.
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