There is a place <br />called Sylivania, <br />named after silybum, <br />the thistle of the milk. <br />It's where the laws <br />of Physics <br />and of Chemistry <br />as well as most <br />of what we humans <br />have come to <br />see as truth, <br />have been suspended <br />for ever <br />and a day. <br /> <br />A man can drink <br />in Sylivania, <br />he takes a bottle, <br />size one gallon, <br />Sylivanian measure, <br />he looks inside <br />-an introduction- <br />and then inhales <br />the fragrance <br />of the devil's brew. <br /> <br />Upon approval <br />he dives, head first <br />into the delectable <br />and promising <br />deep well of pleasure. <br /> <br />And as he floats <br />without an effort <br />he drinks his fill <br />again and then <br />again, only <br />to feel the need <br />to breathe <br />now and perhaps <br />much later. <br /> <br />And so he floats <br />up to the top <br />at intervals, <br />dictated by <br />the body's need <br />for oxygen. <br />And then he sinks <br />to find the other, <br />it gives a life <br />not so unlike <br />and also asks <br />of him to make <br />his choice. <br /> <br />And when <br />the pleasure <br />and the promise <br />of the need <br />come into focus <br />in the eyes of <br />blurriness <br />he may decide <br />to stay. <br />Forgo the need to <br />float past <br />the horizon. <br />And stay <br />forever <br />at the bottom <br />of his well.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-alcoholic-of-sylivania/
