Sweet syrup of dreams,
absinthe of the moon,
fragrant with fables forgotten,
spiced with ages past,
heaving and sighing beneath
the clockwork of constellations,
its rhythms a strange medicine,
or poison for the soul
Take me away to the mermaids,
to their palace in the coral,
to the throne overgrown with anemone.
Let me listen to the lorelei, to the whales,
as they dance the dance of stars and black holes,
in deep dark depths as empty
as the foam that whispers at my ankles.
As I walk this shore,
I am a castaway that has found land,
and a desert vagabond that has found water.
I am a pirate that has found
the thin edge