Flames, beautiful, irregular,
large and pure
licked cleanly under her
cauldron of water,
the heat transforming the room.
She leaned on her broom,
her eyes looming full
of mystery and learning.
Peering clear through
the dusty, heated gloom,
he flickered past,
arranging greenery in a glass
while leaving behind
his perennial redolence
as pure as a spring running
rich with the knowledge
of life's vital forces:
fire and air, water and earth
in perfect vibration
at the root of his
alchemical transformation.
Archeus being well practiced
in that art,
smiling only when glad
and never speaking untruths,
did thus proclaim.
Once in contact with another,
both are changed,
so says Earth Mother.
Winds fan fire
and make it spin
in the illumined soul of man.
From that fire ascends
the Salamandric Phoenix
never limited by impossible ends.
