The Thaumaturgic Lexicon: Fifty Alchemical Cantos of Sesquipedalian Grandeur
Sonnet I: The Entombed Radiance
O, how this thaumaturgic light distills,
From petrichor and vespertine repose,
The quiddity of amethystine hills,
Where argent dew on calyxed flora glows.
No misericord for the recreant eye,
That shuns the rubicund and sepia sweep,
Of firmaments where zygodactyls fly,
And ophidian shadows through the stasis creep.
Thou art the pleroma, the gnostic flame,
A coruscating pulse in vitrified veins,
Absolving every nominalist name,
Till only ultramarine truth remains.
Thy pulchritude is adamantine steel,
Which even Atropos cannot conceal.
Sonnet II: The Alchemical Heart
Within the athanor of my desire,
The nigredo of longing starts to bloom,
Transmuting leaden grief to solar fire,
Amidst the chiaroscuro of the tomb.
Thy breath—a susurrus of aeolian gold,
Does fructify the barren heaths of mind,
While syzygies of ancient stars unfold,
In mathematics cruelly refined.
I seek no paltry grace of mortal breath,
But sublimation in thy ichor’s flow,
A cataphract against the march of death,
Where phosphorescent orchids wildly grow.
For in thy viscera, the cosmos spins,
And there the eschaton of love begins.
Sonnet III: The Lexicon of the Infinite
Let pedants preach their jejune homilies,
And sciolists decry this turgid verse,
I’ll plunder thesauric anomalies,
To deck the catafalque of the universe.
Each phoneme is a talismanic bead,
Strung on a filament of transient thought,
Sown like a hyper-intellectual seed,
In soils where labyrinthine dreams are wrought.
Thy beauty is a prolix epiphany,
A theophany in paralytic blue,
The overture to some grandiloquent sea,
That washes obsolescence from the view.
Not Avon’s swan nor Ovid’s artful line,
Can match this sesquipedalian design.
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