The Elixir Of Life, The Philosopher's Stone

For You Are Abstract, Making No Mistake, Slurring No Word In The Rhythm You Make, The Poem, Writ In The Air.

Thoth, Hermes, The Stylus, The Palette, The Pen, The Quill Endure, Though Our Books Are A Floor Of Smouldering Ash Under Our Feet.

Love Is A Garment Riven In The Light That Rises From Parnassus, Showing The Night Is Over.

Every Concrete Object Has Abstract Value, Is Timeless In The Dream Parallel.

Music Sets Up Ladders, It Makes Us Invisible, It Sets Us Apart, It Lets Us Escape; But From The Visible There Is No Escape.