I am the innocent adulteress that was forced 
into marriage then put to death unjustly by corrupt law 
because I risked to let my love run wild for you.

I sat next to you somewhere in the forest
never having touched you
but only felt your kiss on my wrist.

It was then when I was that innocent woman
that the main artery in my wrist
became a musical string that connected to my heart
and would never cease to play our unfinished song.

They burned us at the stake.
We lit up in flames happily.
Nostalgic. I know I have died
ten thousand times for your love
and returned. And will continue
to return until the trumpets of
heaven sound freedom.

Those who walked over my grave , ancient tree's, 
and grieving flowers would hear the playing
in the warm womb of the night. Our song sings itself
all over the mother. We are every lover
that was executed in the name of the soul.

The moon, she still weeps for us.
Her tears the shape of the syllables that make up
our names seep into the earth and scatter
touching the earth every night with a love
recognized by the cosmos.