Leave the place
where the smoke
Turn your back on the beast
whose dark arms wind and bend,...
...ever reaching to choke out
blown by wild peppermint winds.
Go weary traveler with the heart
and eyes of a child,
find the place where the paths of machines end,
never forgetting to leave your mark.
Seek the end
and when you find it,
forsake the safety of dark arms
Let the moon-bird eat you alive.
you will see
where the grass
as a moon-bird,
prepare for flight
in the infinite space
where the road ends
and the sidewalk begins.
(Thanks to Shel Silverstein for
leaving those first arrows.)
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