The abyss of memory opens up into a wide chasm.
In the center of the circle stands a torch lighting the cave
Illuminating the insects who dance ballet to the cosmic tune
Playing from some hidden phonograph up above.
I reach for the sparkling air but find it fractured,
Time and space having colluded to keep me out of this soiree.
Instead, I retreat to the tome of all tomes
On the wooden stand by the wall,
Determined to learn every fact, ritual and formula
In case I am ever examined by the agency
As I pass between worlds.
Beyond culture there is an underground ocean
That represents the farthest north humanity has ventured.
I look out onto the faint rippling of the red waves
As the freezing cold water laps peacefully onto my bare feet.
All memorabilia of time has floated away and drowned,
And I close my eyes for the very last time,
To join those few who have dared to journey this far
From the penumbra of the fire circle that would not let them in.