As I lay inside my bed,

And strolled down streets within my head,

And wandered off to parts unknown,

To places where no beast had flown,


I came across a set of stairs,

Which wound their way down through the misty air,

Until they reached a massive clock,

Whose polished face I felt an urge to knock.


And so I set off, down these simple stairs,

Down through the freezing, foggy air,

Down towards those giant, turning hands,

Down towards the constant, timeless land


As I walked, I spied many queer things,

Like fish wearing armor, and eyes with wings,

Or granite maidens bearing crosses of fire,

And colorful fabrics woven from desire.


But stranger still were the things that I felt,

Like my skin turning soft, and starting to melt,

Or my hairline receding, and turning grey,

And my vigor dissolving, fading away.


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