The alchemical magnum opus began
With a Prima Materia of clay and sand.
To the body I added spittle of moon,
Sulpher of Nature, Chaos of Noon,
Salt of Nitre and Saltpeter,
Tincture and essence of lotus eater.
In the seventeenth century of our Lord’s dominion, when no man conchorded a like opinion, I found myself as a youth, apprentice to an esoteric sooth, or wizard to the uninitiate.
The workshop lay under Prague’s fair skies, in a quarter known for its pursuits of magical enterprise.
Hastalska Street was its perfect disguise.
Beneath Prague Castle, mystics toiled in pursuit of a path to eternal life and youth.
Philosopher’s stone, potent elixirs, hermetic cyphers, rare ancient admixtures.
Van Der Gowe, Tycho Brahe were there, with occasional visits, albeit rare, by astronomer Kepler’s stone-faced glare.
Aurum Potabile, was my quest, “drinkable gold” the fire in my breast. While others sought Anima Mundi or aether, my work within me invoked dark creatures, pursuing elixirs with vigor unbound, I impatiently raged for the mystic compound that would mock the gods, the golden key to youthful immortality.
The chemical wedding of earth and sky, base and noble, acid and lye, my obsession now relentless, false leads rendering me senseless.
The harmony of the spheres shapes my descent.
Pursuit of this plan shall I never relent,
Damnation be damned, without repent,
Until I’ve mastered these dark elements.