Sights and sounds a little mystical,

Sensoria, tactile apparatuses for the brain. If the verses for the second aren’t proof of a psychedelic protocol in literature — see the second paragraph  — I don’t know what is.

“Only a palace with interior doors / well painted well gargoyled with multiple floors / two windows let free this projector machine and the magical world here appears on the screen / my servants attend me with tricks of the senses / the past and the future and similar tenses and on platters of air they convey me my measure both gladness and sorrow, I lack not for treasure  / the lord and his lady are seated within / in the court of the mind where the song does begin / the song is as fine is as fine is as follows  / the song does continue through measureless hollows that sink from the level of personal being through caverns of darkness where dragons are dwelling  /the mountains above them are raised at my calling /  there the apples are ripe or the rain is a-falling / in ships of white vision I sail the horizon / where three spinners stand beyond the horizon / under the tree of the apples of beauty / I watch them arranging my days and tomorrows / The song is as fine is as fine as it follows / I stood on the beach where the moon was a-curling / Laughed on the wings of the sea birds calling / I loved when sweet Venus a lover did bring me / I cried when sweet Saturn and Jupiter moved us and all of my servants were fighting their brothers / And the lord and the lady they hated each other / Till the spinners arose with their work on their fingers / Commanding the presence of Heavenly singers / That spoke of the silence so soon to be coming / When all would be still in the wonderful palace / The peace is not stillness but peacefully changing / This hope is the hope of the man on the gallows / The song is as fine is as fine is as follows / The infant I was in the womb of my mother White sperm I was in the loins of my father / Before that I swam in the oceans of nowhere / Where the fish are as fine as the colour of colours / Where waves are the message of centuries rolling / Where wind is the breath of the Holy Creator / Where no ship sails but only the ocean / Where all the rivers grow mighty with showing / And crowned with the gifts of the myriad valleys / Return with a sigh to the sea of the coming / Forever and ever and ever and ever / be glad O be Glad for the song has no ending.” The Incredible String Band, The Head