Alchemisland

Undying lands grander than Atlantis, full of familiar hands banded again

Reforged oaths, all strewn oats sewn to zenith

Motes animate light in flight, delighting alongside buoyant satellites winds shake free from dandelions

Gardeners in austere gabardines with swan wings sweeping aft peacock-equal

Spending dreamful epochs raking rocks into straight lines before God’s throne and temples, in which there are no straight lines 

At breast, lightful philtres gleaming numerous along pearled baldrics

Smiling vestments braided with infrequent ore; utter orpiment, ur-scarlets mother of all earthly reds, glorious cerulean blue as frost-coned Thule, umber oldest of colours, thunder-coloured chasubles hemmed with fireball orange at the sandalled ankles of ageless angels

Roofless hall of breakless concorde, the names those God of love hath blest inscribed upon a wall

Crystal-floored theatre, whose underfloor actors know not of a script

They do not realize it is all scripture, that leaving their lips

A garden of rose pips, one blink and colour eclipses any sense of beforehand

Man’s hand is not seen here on the land, and yet much of this fantasy in vantage

Resembles tales told around hearthfires, surety of manufacture in his image

Maintaining ever, clever architect whose delicate levers protect the leavened

His protectors yet walk, they are seen about the Levant

Healing lepers, guiding the helpess in blind caravans toward lazarets

A feast made of Creation’s every moment

Always at rest, ashes impressed onto the brows of the blessed filing in for vespers

Kinds words or those enduring from Glory’s Book despite our divorce from that authority.