Such sweetness in Your voice
You are the Honey of Wild Bees
Your gentle touch
Soft branches of the yew tree
Brushing past my face
when finding the blue flower in the shade
next to the spring-root, an opener of ways
the guardian of wild strawberries
fruit of the other land
Your kiss of promise and enchantment.
I am free.
I am alive.
You call – I follow.
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