" A thunder bolt 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 plots an aerie merchant's ship

Across the phantasmagoric main

Courses waged by hermits to lonsome starry shores
Bequeath their secret entry ways:
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
Slightly all alone

Feathers from a lofty wish
Fail on their own and fall wearily to earth
A stirring by the nightstand caused 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!"