---

Medicine reviving all the ailed and wounded

 Barrels of antidote

 thick bright liquid.

 And behind the wash they fall in overwhelming relief.

 The cured ones float; viscous pool of sunset

 Overflowing, flowing over, one upon the other.

 Yes, yes, yes!

 Like from your land that gave birth to you, Aster!

 Bellowing river - a new tributary!

 Here we have made medicine.

 Painter’s stroke,

 stroke of an artist

 I am the hand, you the brush.

 Textured brilliance

 The parchment the ground they cover.

 Blind eyes opened --

 Beautiful and bright, wide with new, healed knowledge.

 Turgid minds bombarded

 Soaked in the bright of the earth’s new light.

 Almost golden, the sky reflects

 Massengrab regen bogen.

 My tool of intention, my tool of incantation

 Help to cleanse away woes, as it was said.

 Facets of iridescent hills,

 Behind them faces,

 Glowing and shimmering the veil.

 Under facets, faces

 The hills donned in crowds of color

 Painted souls are just the start

 Out of blank the currents rise

 And the one called appears

 Summoning the summoned

 The haze rolls in exhaling him

 Singular expansion

 The aid from above, from both of us

 Painted souls are just the start

 of what we could restore.