Singers of Soma!

Singers of Soma! Songsmiths of the sweet, fennel- and camomile-fed mead! Wax thy windswept minds, gyrate in the cosmic tumble, dilate thy expanses with rippling-out horizons sweeping past the stars! O ancient ones, who long ago the heavens' open portals contemplated, letting mind become big mind, and heart big heart, you found the skaldic speech to sing the divine in every thing, sing on, and speak our hidden wizard-riddles found in day or from beloved night! Hallowed, held in awe, and venerated -- rightly so! For noble is the mind that freely wanders in its wonder. Wondrous are riddles laid out in sweet verse! Royal is that heart taking its lotus throne, surveying all in blissful leisure and benevolence! Rightful is that high, human place, lord of stars, humble servant of divine expanses, made noble with breadth of love extended out to embrace all things! Web-tenders, strumming on the tendril-harp that hangs between the stars and every thing within the heavens' grasp, attending to attunement to beyonds beyond mundane and everyday concerns! Not that those are unprofound, O sages of the mystic mead, but when opaque, conceal their essence : you encrystal, open eyes transparent to their window-skin, within which spin the wooly, tangled lights of heaven's torches!