take this dram of medicine and watch them fade away,
the self-important stars that burn holes
through night's abyssmalness--
the elder lights, the guiding voices of choir,
who alone, but never are they alone,
would make a thought seem like a mirror to them,
but together turn all thoughts into dreams.
take this dram and watch these strings of light beams
pull taut their puppet, you,
and bring the silence some call peace,
this manifesting choir's appetite--
say good night to your night time friends,
say good morrow to their cousin, the nearer star,
and good heavens for, the nearest, morning star.
take this and watch the stars unfold in your lidded eyes
how they never could by uncovered skies,
oh how they trip and fall within your mind,
oh the comet's ball that is your mind!
and save this night-sky for another time
when the tide of your days shortens and the mystical eye widens,
and in the yet longest hours come the white midnight flowers.