Asymptopia

walking backwards, leaving elaine in the field alone
seeking out the words
while the witch in wichita falls...
the one whose little path would make me sad

weary, weary traveler
let the song drown out all your sorrows
let the breeze bring chills
let the dappled green sun flow

climb the fence, books and pens
take a look at the sky just before you die
within the darkest wood, elaine still waits
in the field alone

Run, runner!
Time's wasting, and Carrousel awaits.
What, at twenty-two, can interest you
When twenty-one is a no-win dead-end?
Force-fed fantasies from birth,
Birthed from the machine messiah,
Boxed and caged and caught in the net;
You can find hard freedom in Cathedral
Or fly beyond the sky
To Sanctuary.