Velvetine et ça Kaleidosom Blog

This winter blessed by the poem of your hand

this winter dressed by the hour

of your flowers. 

This winter swarming with sacred flame,

this winter touching our lips in the pond of desire.

This winter named as your skin 

or as the music of your bones. 

I've heard about the shining when it happens

but my King, your land is a miracle sung.