labyrinth
Scythian Gold

In the pure land,
Snow feathers the wind
Falling upon the young girl
Upon the young girl galloping
Galloping the frozen plain
Her blood burns my bones,
Her memories are fire-flowers
Scattered across my path
Scattering gold in a dream
Her dreams rise in me
Risen in flame and ice,
Her lover sings to me
Singing beneath my skin
Gold, golden songs
From the pure land.


© 2005 J.L. Stanley