Lovely lovely place, indeed,
The infinite beyond.
Of each misted ghostly reed
We have become so fond.
In the garden, long the brook,
Gossamer hung trees,
Bone and tooth, page torn from book,
The things who did displease
Our masters once- ah, shame on us!
Be it by nature or by slight.
By simple misconception, fuss,
And snap! and claw! and bite!
So sent away into the night,
In lantern cages stowed.
Drifting 'pon rafts of starry white,
In turn 'pon black seas we rode.
We found this place- well, some of we.
Found it isolated here.
We took the island past the sea
Though it was unknown and queer.
But it's a lovely, lovely place indeed,
The infinite beyond.
With each misted ghostly reed
Our souls have formed a bond.
We sleep in them, we pick them, too,
When we wish to wear our crowns
Of twisted green sweetgrass and dew
(Which fade to dewy browns),
And the seasons coexist here,
So they never truly die.
Every moon phase seen in shadowed sphere
Hangs patterned in the sky.
Night and day melt quite together,
So a thousand suns hang too.
And the clouds they roost in feather
With shades of gold and grey and blue.
And the ground is made of leaves and buds
Intertwined at their great roots
That plunge in masses, almost floods,
Into emptiness that pollutes
The lovely lovely place, indeed,
The infinite beyond.
Now each misted ghostly reed
Has bowed to disembodied pond
To hide your traveler's cloak and shoes,
Stained with traveler's red blood,
Which we can march in ones and twos
To hold back this pressing flood.
For we don't want this lovely place
To be swallowed by flames that have grown,
Flames invisible to a race
Like yours, one that is not our own
And is wicked out of place.
So we shall cast down each fresh new bone
Into the maw of space
And pray that sacrifice alone
Will help us all to face
It down.
In varied sweetgrass crown.
The infinite beyond.
