The Philosopher’s Stone
We’re live and lived in storms of sand or soot
an outstretched hand is a Brink to be wary of
Therefore a stone is in my soup, come and be my neighbor
Where the storm is weather-beaten and mad, A mangy
Dog may (with dirigible hair) gain momentum- animál
With Passion, The Hot-stone will boil the Vegetable-water.
When the damsel is distressed vagrantly exposed Breasts
press-screams to bleat off the rooftops in sheets of Vibrato
The vegetables will mingle one another to riffle the flavor
Altogether the crescendo de donum overwhelms storefront Decimates
Township, clapboard, And homestead or describes As (unacceptable to Build)
The stone will sear together the garnish broadening sauté of Beef
When torrent is torrent and nothing Only torrent, these shakes of the planet may
crack branches limber branches Crystal spheres uproot fleeces one another of a home
Then the garnish explodes red dye inside A soup billowed With completion
When Albion’s tremors beneath the rock Sandwich Pacific the Ocean whelms
Zeus claps the sky and dams succumbs-drunk coated to the building fuel-oil
the boil slow popping will be familiar in a soup dealt out in ladlefuls
When the pressure is beyond capacitance, the flux and tremors
the land And the whelming complete, the roar will reach bravado
A soup enjoyed will miss the rock, soundlessly draped in red leftovers
when the bravado is over the pattern will cease, a storm becomes a lady-Sky
retroactively prayers on the deserted village disappear as the storm beyond the Night
The last villager still Around cradles the stone, bathes it quietly, and stores it for another use.
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