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.
