Ambrosia

Oh thee lake of wine, holy offspring of sweet and acerb,
Jorum of skee, my eyes see stars!
A day clear like this fogs my appetite.
Whiffs of salt some might sense.
Tears of the feast, those.
Mountains high and low, hunched sentinels.
In the silence the clock stops, Your Highness dines.
Syrups sweet to the heavens, nectar warm to the toes.
Platter of fantastic chow. Explosive juices wrapped up in peel.
The meal itself, must be a blessing from Him Dionysus.
A breath of divinity. A divergent ambrosia.
Two drops of the lemonade onto the tip of tongue, an elixir to immortality.
Three pinches of those powdered deific leaves, the voice of a dolphin.
A bite into the pious fruit, a deathless recharge of life itself.
Another sip of the liquid, double the status.

Creatures from the past and from the Seven Seas were all at this banquet,
Feasting, cramming, nibbling, wolfing.
Toasting, "To Your Highness, to our absent age!"