The gold that's laid by not but quill
malaise is fought to germ
it seems there is a precedent
to wrestle with the worm

so deep within your cauldron meld
the timeless triune brew
a sprig of life, a grain of truth
mixed with a sanguine hue

and sally forth between the dross
as talus piles abound
by loaf of bread and jug of wine
not meat alone is found