Luring the birds with harmonican heart.
Lord of the thicket, kissed with the vines.
Drawing them in from the avian arts, earthen vessel, mine wings are thine.
Sing me a song for my feathers do flutter,
sing of earth's mother, the thorn prince, my lover.
For he doth dance with percussive delight,
and turns my heart wildly, as I take my flight.
And I fly away as he bellows from earth,
his melodic flute sings of my worth.
And I'm lifted much higher than feathers imagine,
he's with me and in me, no sin, this is heaven.
Then with Thundering hooves in the whispering wind,
He draws me again, my lover, Pan.
A little bird lost
in his Labrynth of wonder.
I'm Lost in his heart....no hurry, no squander.
