[abraxasinas]

　
The Wings of Maria and Solomon's Song !

A new day is breaking across the plains of the desert, Maria's golden dawn to greet;
like a lush green meadow, Bathsheba is awaiting the dewdrops, deliciously sweet.
It's Solomon's flowery nectar, growing in a valley of memories forgotten for so long;
where a beautiful song is playing, birthing a new world for our sweet Maria to belong.

Out in the dry desert, a caravan of camels paces steadily towards its vermilion oasis;
a mighty rock, telling its tales of old, when wisdom still was found in hidden places.
Baiame, the serpent's rainbow is arching across a glorious sky, shining in hues azure;
and there's Maria, a flower from the desert with her love to share so gently and demure.

Merlin, the crimson dingo has come to the great meet, with stories of a redrosy sky;
so many desertdwellers to share in adventures, hearing a majestic eagle's eerie cry.
Amidst the gathering is our queen, dancing to the mother's calling, love's own tune;
What a celebration at the edge of nowhere, this wedding betwixt the sun and the moon.

Jonathan, the emu has arrived with a message about Maria from the heavens above;
the dragon's friends are found all about, guided in the peace of the snowwhite dove.
There is Toby, the alabaster unicorn, pacing for Maria's mounting and to elope away;
into a realm of lofty mountains, where the regal eagle's loveplay always holds sway.

Excalibur, the sword of truth has broken forth to swiftly rent the veils holding asunder;
a mighty tempest sweeps across a forlorn land, a world shaken in lightning and thunder.
Maria's dreams of love and sublime desires, all have sprouted upon Pegasusian wings;
from the heights of peaky treetops and of oaken branches, where the nightingale sings.


You pretty pink flamingo, wading by across the shores of longings, bubbling all adrift;
if you'd just fathom the inner essence of your glory, your ecstacy would come so swift.
Upon the wings of Solomon, you shall find the Dragon's daughter's passage to be free;
oh sweet remembrance of the days of old, Maria of Jerusalem has found her lost key.

The name of the Mother's poem is your own; your courting troubadour so fit to see;
a dawning of love's joy in all is splendour, so devoted and wondrously in wait for thee!


Abraxas