Wizard of the earth; I am the botanist of yore - Conversing with the stars until the stars can hear no more. I read them pharmacopoeias from catacombs of lore To fill the vacant sky with verse of those who lived before.
Poet of the sky and the ever glowing sun - A seven-headed serpent lays in wait upon my tongue. I sing in sacred stanzas from a phantom in my lungs To make my spirit rise before the day is yet begun.
Unfinished fragment from something i wrote a few years ago. needs work.