"A thunderbolt in the northern sky...
... and the roaring of a lion"
Swept up by the downy wings of angels
Made from a heaven-laden voice
I float with all the weight of ether
It pilots an aerie merchant ship
Across the phantasmagoric main
Courses waged by hermit to lonesome starry shoes
Bequeath their secret entryways
Lighthouses watch fervently the horizons of the soul
But Amaranth the peddler waxes poetic to Mnemosyne
His unmasked eyes deliver lunacy
It is a countless hour stealing further into landscapes seldom drawn
Even in a demon's troubled head
He sells his wares to vampires
In bottles cork'd by woe
Dreams in liquid lift their eyes
To Morpheus enthroned
Upon a poppy field breathing
Slight all alone
Feather from a lofty wish
Fail on their own and fall wearily to Earth
A stirring by the nightstand causes the lamp to lift it's voice
"Alack, a purloined dream
Again distills thy trembling eye!
What mystery remaineth ever so?
Amaranth, a curse doth write itself
Upon thy spectral frame
A thousand lives, a thousand days
Disgraceth thus thy name!"
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