Thus He Spoke Aloud as he Walked… “The Baine Hour glides, as I sit gazing outside, through the night street window of this dimly lit city bar tonight. I watch ghosts and shadows of the passers-by, to bide my gratified pavine of Time. As I sit about this dimly lit city bar about the night. Daylights faded, the noise grew somber, as the White Horse hour neared by. As she walked in, thin and fair skinned, her body etched with glorious purples of her time. Sitting about the bar, her drink poured violet, frothy, white, while morphing with our space and time. The Grand hour rises, as I gather to my feet, to save this mistress of my kind. We laugh and watch, the ticking clock glide, the sound subdued as a sweeping hand would slide, with each turn it did click, but not for our kind; on this, our night - We raise and drink, to an oh so wonderful The Baine time. Gilded from age time, now upon our 30s, we step set in the city streets to bide the cadence of the flow of our footsteps upon the pavement. Step by step, with her in arm, our black and purple love flows, a stream love can not disarm. Gazing ahead, one car, then two, the hour stands still in the wake of our Moonlit God. Her love behold my eyes with magnificent and vibrant pupils in disguise. I can't help but to stare; but I mustn't, I might...No...Yes! The Baine Hour glides and bends Will to our time. Her eyes scream, her love and pain pours through words of silence, of the course none is broken. I can't look away, to break her gaze, her eyes gape, is to but break mine. We must go forward, this Vicious and Vivacious love we command has stopped the sands of time. Do her eyes codone a kiss, as the thought ponders I'm striken of oxygen as steals my soul with her kiss. The streets spinning out of control, life doesn't exist, just us, commanding this hour of our watches, entwined, oxygen morphing together as the sands, now wet cease to drip out of time.” An ode to Aliester Crowley and his work entitled, “The Green Goddess” a piece inexplicably an ode initofitself to Absinthe the drink and his nights with Her. Here our traveler wanders a blissfully unaware journey into the Night’s eye of Poppy’s wonder and awe.