From my spire, I look upon a
world of radiance and reason,
where streets of blue and yellow
marble wind through the soaring
domes and temples of adamantine
and Orichalc.

Beneath, the people move like
living art—golden-limbed, bright-eyed,
draped in gossamer and wisdom.

Laughter rises like the songs of lyres,
echoing through colonnades where poets
and philosophers weave their spells of
thought.

Beyond the city, the harbors stretch
where lacquered galleys bob in waters
of lapis and carnelian.

The air is thick with incense, with the
perfume of hanging gardens, with the spice
of strange fruits carried from lands unseen.

At the academies, minds unbind the stars;
in the temples, oracles whisper truths pulled
from the bones of time.

No dream is too vast, no pleasure forbidden,
no knowledge beyond reach.

At dusk, the sky burns violet and gold,
and Atlantis glows in the breath of a
thousand lanterns.

My hands rest upon the cool stone of my tower,
my heart heavy with wonder, with reverence,
with the weight of eternity.

Gods, may this all never end.

Inspired by the Writings of Clark Ashton Smith on Poseidonis