No Poetic Phantasy But A Biological Reality,

I Testify To Rainbow Feathers, To The Span Of Heaven And Walls Of Colour, The Colonnades Of Jasper.

Passionate Grave Thought, Belief Enhanced, Ritual Returned And Magic.

There Is No Man Can Take, There Is No Pool Can Slake, Ultimately I Am Alone; Ultimately I Am Done.

Remember The Golden Apple-trees; O, Do Not Pity Them, As You Watch Them Drop One By One, For They Fall Exhausted, Numb, Blind But In Certain Ecstasy, For Theirs Is The Hunger For Paradise.

A Slight Wind Shakes The Seed-pods My Thoughts Are Spent As The Black Seeds.