Raise the chalice!
Stir the emerald bonfire!
In the pot put liquorice
The flavor to entice;
Then in with the apprentice,
Tender to become on the balefire…
He is to be served with rice
At the guests of the campfire.
Behold the new vice
That cools even the fire!
Brings to the living a new spice,
By the powers of the nymphs twice,
By the muses and goddess thrice:
Setting the living and the dead afire,
The quill is rolling time’s dice
And its verses capture all in the crossfire…
At the brink of chaos I assemble the solstice
And pierce the blackness with eclipses of wildfire.
There the turquoise muse waits in her lacy bodice
To slain me behind rapture’s lattice,
My spirit to entomb deep in her abyssal precipice…
I have risen in lead wings from the thirteenth hellfire
Baptizing my decayed body with her kisses of ice
And vain mortals are sacrificed as I set her tenebrously afire.