Prose:Dancing Witches

We entered the forest and there was nothing
Then we came down to the village. It was on fire.
The smoke went floating, dancing, waving
laguorously into our eyes.
It felt so good we were so high.
A strange smell of innocence took us.
In a court, tragic and melancolic moment,
she reaveled the ancien mystic secrets :

She came at night,
Her clothes were white.
She took their lamps
and burnt the camp.

Then she told me
A long story

About dancing
with the fire
that gods gave us.

Then we woke up
beneath the trees.
The sun was up,
Was a cold breeze

There was nothing,
we were higher,
she had found us.

When we came back to the village,
Was no fire.