Celestial zephyrs lift me through strains of wine-rich music
As lucent as the images these philtres bring,
And green and gold lightning decks my dazed exaltation
At the hallowed source from which such strains spring.
And to soar, iridescent, in these realms of necromancy
Is to tend towards that awareness whence the spirit strives:
To perceive in the continuum of fact and fancy
The transcendental context of our mortal lives.
As the dull mortal coil benumbs and deadens
And my thoughts sheer away from things mundane,
I may quaff a deep elixir, an ensorcelled philtre
To pursue the starry wisdom one who quaffs may gain.