There’s a place, old and musky…
up on a green hill, where the witches go.
There, under the full moon,
they dance, sing, and take out their brooms.
Their existence was forbidden,
so they had to learn to go to this place in the dreaming,
from the earliest intents of creation,
to unite with God in sexual surrender.
Here, in the true church of the living flesh.
Love this and the photo. 😍
Gorgeous and more true now than ever.