Looking For Gold | Priesthood.

To make love/ life

To my body/ halo

With all the curves and stretch marks

I have grown over the years,

Breath in/ out

Tip the velvet/ beach sand

And reach the other side,

On the back of a messenger

Where I can hold the earth in my palms

And drink all the water.

To count the petals/ battles,

The woven words holding you/me tight,

Face to face

You look to my hair,

brush/ dye the white ones,

I am alive/ dead

I pull the harp strings

I spell my name/ your colors

Back to back

With no linen sheets around me

I sneak into the temple,

swallow  some dark blue seeds,

With water/ No with beer,

They grow into a little dress.

My scars/ smiles

Ooze some perfumed water,

Speak to me/ mute to my silence

I put on the little dress,

The harp strings finally talks.