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Originally published February 26, 2014 on Tumblr.

The moon came into the forge
in her bustle of flowering nard.
The little boy stares at her, stares.
The boy is staring hard.
In the shaken air
the moon moves her arms,
and shows lubricious and pure,
her breasts of hard tin.
“Moon, moon, moon, run!
If the gypsies come,
they will use your heart
to make white necklaces and rings.”
“Let me dance, my little one.
When the gypsies come,
they’ll find you on the anvil
with your lively eyes closed tight.
“Moon, moon, moon, run!
I can feelheir horses come.”
“Let me be, my little one,
don’t step on me, all starched and white!”

Closer comes the the horseman,
drumming on the plain.
The boy is in the forge;
his eyes are closed.
Through the olive grove
come the gypsies, dream and bronze,
their heads held high,
their hooded eyes.

Oh, how the night owl calls,
calling, calling from its tree!
The moon is climbing through the sky
with the child by the hand.

They are crying in the forge,
all the gypsies, shouting, crying.
The air is veiwing all, views all.
The air is at the viewing.
—Federico García Lorca

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nd4cg2jfnoc

The Kingdom Of Heaven by the 13th Floor Elevators

Here you are at my place within your glistening eyes
I’m watching your reactions as the thing within you cries
And I’m bringing you this message ‘cause I think it’s time you knew
That the kingdom of heaven is within you

The incense and the candles and the colors on the wall
Your image stands reflected as a princess come to call
Your suspicions I’m confirming as you find them all quite true
And the kingdom of heaven is within you

Through the stained glass windows moonlight flashes on the choir
And splashes on the altar in glows of liquid fire
Then it bathes you with its glory and you begin life anew
And the kingdom of heaven is within you