Dorothy, leave your slippers home

and dream a little deeper, dear.

Walk drifting down the yellow road

to find another sleeper here.

As every brick disintegrates

to blackness in your waking eyes,

tread forward to what emanates

attractive in the ruby skies.

So far away from Kansas

in a purgatory of the clouds,

do drink into the madness

of the rainbow's blackest glory now.

The violent skies are hungry;

Where angels fall in fear to tread

with lions, tigers, bears and monkies

flying wildly overhead.

The wicked trees of troubled toil

mock faces in their patterns of

the forking road cocooned in coils

around the rings of Saturn, love.

Heart fit to break, my mind deceased,

and courage is impermanent

so follow me six feet beneath

the fabled Wizard's curtain, then

just place your hand upon the seal

embroidered on my coffin door

and speak to me with cyclone zeal

like dead or long forgotten lore.

As I await your dream of fate

in my eternal hungering,

the richest witches' brews I taste

to grow into a younger King.

Still 'tis the blood of dreamers fair

I wish to sample on my tongue,

so come before me if you dare

to answer as the chosen one.