"A thunderbolt in the northern sky... ...and the roaring of a lion" Swept up by the downy wings of angels Made from a heaven-laden voice I float with all the weight of ether It pilots an aerie merchant ship Across the phantasmagoric main Courses waged by hermit to lonesome starry shoes Bequeath their secret entryways Lighthouses watch fervently the horizons of the soul But Amaranth the peddler waxes poetic to Mnemosyne His unmasked eyes deliver lunacy It is a countless hour stealing further into landscapes seldom drawn Even in a demon's troubled head He sells his wares to vampires In bottles cork'd by woe Dreams in liquid lift their eyes To Morpheus enthroned Upon a poppy field breathing Slight all alone Feather from a lofty wish Fail on their own and fall wearily to Earth A stirring by the nightstand causes the lamp to lift its voice "Alack, a purloined dream Again distills thy trembling eye! What mystery remaineth ever so? Amaranth, a curse doth write itself Upon thy spectral frame A thousand lives, a thousand days Disgraceth thus thy name!"