Alchemisland

What whilst walking to craw affixes is considered little at lapping Styx

Skeleton fixtures, smoke and acrid admixtures furling from fissures

You will not think about when, in third class, you were spurned by Richard

Nor will you regret having left a house’s – now another’s – ailing fixtures unsutured

You will not cry at having left hateful words unmuttered, or unpaid tithes

You will have neither shame nor pride abundant, but a choice of cups

Water to either fork flooding, running equal in depth, height and fleetness

Unequal in gift and essence, in origin, the Lethe awaytakes the meekest

Its waters slake little, bidding drinkers take more than little, more than fills them

Until lived lives are dreams fever-seized, then ill-recalled at cockrow’s blent light

For the brave, their fears facing a taste purer than Dürer whom Christ resembled

To them Mnenosyne bracing, amazing waters with memory capacious tast’d

A single draught lost lives awaking.