xanadu

O H

H I

theres a door

over here

somewhere

cosmo sheldrake - the moss

whose woods these are i think i know.

his house is in the village though;

he will not see me stopping here

to watch his woods fill up with snow.

my little horse must think it queer

to stop without a farmhouse near

between the woods and frozen lake

the darkest evening of the year

he gives his harness bells a shake

to ask if there is some mistake.

the only other sound’s the sweep

of easy wind and downy flake.

these woods are lovely, dark and deep.

but i have promises to keep.

and miles to go before i sleep.

and miles to go before i sleep.

i feel most free when i’m on my feet

there’s no rush. well-tread paths are obvious, but don’t go somewhere new.

when i listen, and follow the quiet signs, things get weird guaranteed

zig when zag. outrun the expected

There aren’t too many shops but you’ve never been in most of them. Who are they for? They disappear. You have somewhere to be. 

Two halls connect your lives. They disappear as well. You have somewhere to be. Try to remember they’re there, it’s good for you. 

I heard a story about a blue ghost. Only water could save you from her. The invisible college appears from time to time, and they’ll know if you get close. They have nowhere to be.

Outside town there’s nothing. The shops may be for those who live between here and there. You have no business in between. It may never exist.

As with any place, there are pockets in town which exist elsewhere. You can only find them with the help of someone you trust. If you’re lucky enough to be in one, you have nowhere to be.

The park is never quite the same size.