The Earthy Alchemist
Creation is the art of distortion.
In the morning, we rose with the ill
and walked upon that fiery hill –
full of gold, copper, and quartz.
Blue as the azurite about thine eyes,
sky turned around and bowed.
Despite all its might, it still
bent its back to the Earth.
Upon the spine of a billowing bird, chains cut free with pure medicine
forged of a lying leopard's teeth and a riddling tiger's tongue.
When broken down to its components, it glittered and shifted
in a smoky haze dancing from the lips of a witch-less man.
He took a blade, slipping it down the curves of the earth.
He peeled back skin, revealing her sparkling innards.
Painting them upon his face, the feast was set
upon a grand and weighty table.
"Here are the fruits of the earth, eat of them and grow strong.
For when we next collide, we shall both bleed a fire of resident passion,
brighter than the arts of turning lead to molten gold."
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