---===* Something of Space *===---
Neither concrete or rock,
Nor the grace of frozen spires of ice.
Unscored by weeks of ceaseless battle,
Like some fantastic Vandervecken,
Whose Flying Dutchman has finally come to res
t.
It dominates us in ways we do not
understand,
Products of distance, time and aging.
It is the reason we will never truly fly.
It surrounds us, and laughs at our
efforts
As a man would laugh at a child.
What do we call the thing which keeps us
here?
What name summons the jailer of the
earth?
Why can't we fly?
I shall call it Xanadu's
Ceiling,
And mourn the adventures I shall never see.
-----=====*=====-----