A Parababble...

Master! O Master! Accosting me in the glade…
Tell us of the earth and the games that you have played!…
Of the earth you touch, as I planted the florid rose…
The emerald that fell from brow continues to glow…
Of insights given to those of the mark…
On beaten metal, forged, yields the spark…
Rise ye in the forest anon the mid of night…
Then call ye upon the hidden Master of Light…


Master! O Master! As I rolled down the mountain…
Tell us of air and how you bathe in dry fountains!…
Of the air that you seek, as I wrote with a feather…
Can now be distinguished by the cleave of the whether…
Of things of the head, and brow, and lips…
Calling of knowledge on fingertips…
To gather ancient dust and whirl it into wind…
Leads to an apprehension of where to begin…


Master! O Master! Kicking and beating my box…
Tell us of the water and the bagels with lox!
Of the water you feel, as I took my morning leak…
Two powers concealed before those who wouldest seek…
One is sun, which wisps water away…
The other is moon, a tidal sway…
Though the latter’s etheric, and the other force…
These are mysteries to keep, as matter of course…


Master! O Master! Rousting me from the warm bed…
Tell us of fire, and why that harlot again!…
Of fire that burns, as I stared into the embers…
Creations turning fourfold from the distant Kethers…
Lion-headed, full, immense the plan…
Secrets kept from you mere mortal man…
(crimson delights and the rarest of wines…
flickering flames in glass, twisting as vines…)
Inspirations kiss, sought from red-haired muses face…
Now go away and leave me! Return not to this place!…