estado

the princess of lionesses came on my lips,
holding the savannah still.
golden chips of insects buzzed in awe.
lonely zebras, grasping through stone to feed their cubs,
awaited, even despairing.
there were acacias, and their thorns grew soft for a minute.
and though a waterfall of liquid light
dazzled noon in the heat of the meadow,
animals and such kept heads and twigs pointed at us.
divine hits even the unchallenged.

smoothly on my lips,

today's climax was achieved (a thousand kites and moonlights).

there were still years to come, and despite of the kingcraft

passed on to me,

it was of a more concrete and overwhelming nature:

from her nectar,
rose the emergence of things.