In to the mystery of the night, i wander
the tangled tarantula garden
canopied with prophesies of light,

Lit windows are making
overtures to desires
night unleashes at these hours,
hear the buzz in the air
its time to make love,
darkness forgets  hurt and embraces light.

i walk alone,
but an enchanting witch wait
for me somewhere in a garden bench,
to take me by my  hand to her secret haunt
filled with thick smoke of ****
where she will remove the drapes
to let me see the truth.

On her quill and cactus bed,
she would make me understand,
how far is pleasure from pain
why darkness stalks light,
a jilted lover, walking a few steps behind,

I've heard her, once whisper
to wind in her husky voice
"A  life written off by those
who measure out life with coffee spoons,
as spent in vein; this life of mine,
could have its secret treasures,
no charlatan could ever guess about
a serpent's diamonds
very few get to see,
its dangerous to pry, i forgive their ignorance"

Words induced by her dark power
has layers of meaning
but to many it was just meaningless jabbering,
just magic mushroom blabber

She nibbled and nicked my earlobes,
in between intoxicating purrs,
told me the meaning of caterwauls,

"Its not pain, its not pain,
once you get in to the stream
you only want to drain,
in to the vast blue ocean"

I recognize now,  it's Walpurgis night,
as i walk in search of my witch,
i see dancers around bonfire,
revelers totally out of their minds,
carouse at the heart of the night.
And i see them all, witches in marine blue dresses,
enchantresses in blackly black,
coquettish red or groovy green,
I wait for her to appear,
the only one in resplendent white.