To my baroness

My baroness.....my Beloved, no rose could but blush for shame to be given so in love as to be crucified in rapture upon thy snowy breast, Oh forsooth, to die were bliss itself if only to die in you . To die? Nay my heart, to live , and like the Phoenix live again upon that mount none dare approach but I ...for tis the gate of paradise.



Oh my chambermaid! Off to bed with thee! Fly only to my arms this very night--that we of great Olympus a pyre for our passions make, well spent and dreaming upon the flood plains of eternity.



Your very own little
Indigo  O Dragon