An Open Gate To Ruin Or Choirs Divine Poem by M. A Heathcote

I want to burn some tables and chairs.
In the dark backwoods
And laugh and hear it echo in a chapel
I want to sing as loud as a raging sea
And foam at the mouth as I take off
your robes and watch them fall, slip
beneath your scarlet cut knees and tangle
around your ankles without the need to flee
I want to run like a stallion in the heather
And listen to the hum of the honey bees
That looks so busy and pleased that your headstrong
And there is a mountain pass to heaven or hell
An open gate to ruin or choirs divine
If you say, you'll be mine.
Mine, mine for all of time.