Wilson's stave poorly saved for twenty years
As it nears
The sophistry and the mys'try of the gold
I was told
Was unjolly in its folly
Every broom and every brolly
Founded not the sophistry and the myst'ry of
the gold
Lovely gold
Au contraire let me dare and say my vouch
For some grouch
In the lighting of his writing said to thee:
"Alchemy
Is not sorted nor aborted
In those dialects distorted
But the lighting of my writing says it be
PURITY"
So the dawning's ill-forewarnings one young day so to say
Lit my cradle with some fable unbelieved
As it weaved
A spectre and reflector
Of this primordial projector
In my cradle making able image teethed
Upon, heaved
Then hologrammic monogrammic egg vessel
Left nestle
That it put at the foot of my bed
For it fled
Gave no utter nor a mutter
But a hovered fly flutter
And the graphic, oh the graphic, did I wrestle
(With the vessel)
When immersed yet unversed in such strange
Did it change
To a casket - no - a basket, holding flowers
Pollumn showers
Tried noses where roses
Of white in red imposes
Being sulphur (the engulfer) and merc'ry's
change
Roses arranged
In myriad eyes mad and tranced
Then glanced
Vessel's sailing peacock tailing image flux
One soon rucks
The sheet from his feet
To his mush quilt meets
Scared and fraught the apport nigh advanced
Hue enhanced
Could my senses that intenses like the ignis
Be the ignis?
And the salt that exalts my chem'cal wedding
Be my dredding?
In vito of libido's
Now-formed negredo
Then at once that which blunts my guess
distilled
fuscous-killed
Oh EUREKA! not one seeker saw the plight
Of this sight
'Tis sophistry and the myst'ry of the gold
Vivid, bold
Discerning and turning
To a sun-face burning
Beguiling face smiling splendid gold
Purest gold
by Godo
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