The kicked can of my destiny ever only yards away from me
What cannot be fled from, what I cannot be freed from
Under the thumb of a wonder drug, such summonings
Of sun-son effulgence upsrung, as ne’er before flooded
The wellsprings of my utterances, one bud and I flutter off
Like a newfound butterfly, upwards toward the sky
As do tend all things, wanting for the next, the higher.
Alchemisland 
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