The Butcher's Daughter.

And the butcher's daughter came down from the Elysium fields straight to the holy spirits of my pagan dream with the morning breath of aloe. And the soft music became rivers of pure green. The red serpent spoke to Apollo and her mind of muse. Volcanoes and storms erupted in jubilation commemorating her visit. Red turned sun, voices turned sirens. Forever the face of the earth thanked a thousand ways the mystical birth of the blood.The butcher's daughter snatched my words and letters and made of sacred stone my memory who still calls her.