Blessed Outcomes

Decades of mystic dreamers have worn the path trod across the leys, coupling pairs within Stonehenge. Beneath the Wiltshire skies cornflower blue; they lust, lotus-eaters, loose-limbed, seeking a blessed outcome. With longing strides-- they reach, climbing earthen berms to add their lovers song to move with the cycles. Some take the blessed day, others wait the pearly moon. See her so fairy fair dressed in naught but moonlight? Watch his black-haired beast rise once encircled by her arms. Back pressed against the dolmens, her heels wreath his waist as virgin blood runs red like the holly berries to feed the holy earth, she'll bear his child; she trusts.