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Your blood is beautiful.
I love the stealth of its rush through your arteries and veins,
Whilst your heart, a sweatless slave, it pumps,
Drums as it beats, and pants, and strains,
In search of rest, a task in vain.
I like the way it gurgles as it sprints, free.
Tumbling out through the gash in your neck,
The knife, an accidental instrument,
Honored to serve and winking in delight,
Tears of bright red, a dripping tip.
I like the pattern it paints,
As it snakes and swirls across the forest floor,
Soil, suddenly brown no more,
The shock in your eyes,
As they struggle with loss, their living light,
Exodus in parts, until finality brings closure.
Oh I like the way mother earth sings,
Her prayers in chorus,
As she swallows and drinks,
Signals acceptance of a wonderful offering.
I am on my knees, impatiently anticipating,
The shower of blessings,
Good tidings, that a rain of blood brings.
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