As spectral breath on guttering coals
Igniting ash to undulant flame---
Ever shall thy visions endure.
With the turn of each silent page
Reptillian demons glitter beneath a horned moon;
Astrologers in obsidian towers
Scratch at opalescent vellums
With bones dipped in the ichor of krakens,
And shrivelled, cataract-eyed familiars
Crouch and hiss
From the sunken breasts of half-decayed wizards.
Such is thy necromancy.
Pale disciples, mere sultans of nightmare,
Pass the foaming alembic from hand to eager hand,
Each mouthing his own incantations
Wrought from wormwood, cerecloth and myrrh.
Thus the flame is undying,
Fueled by a brotherhood of dream
And fanned by eternal discovery.
Such is the legacy of words.
As long as poets peer into the darkness
And glimpse vermillion-tongued blossoms;
The dragon-brood of Saturn---
Ecbatana and Eibon prevail.
Ever shall they visions endure.