a poem for Milliways

[shinyhappygoth]

My friends and I met at the end of the world
In our cloaks made of story and song;
There were humans and dragons and programs and gods
In the eschatological throng.

As outside the window the stars boiled away,
Our company sat down to dine,
And we savoured the flavour of each paradox
And grew drunk on Atlantean wine.



(Sometimes a metered line pops into your head, and then there's nothing for it but to write the poem it belongs to.)

Comments

[ceitfianna]

That's beautiful.

[shinyhappygoth]

Thanks. :-)

[cutting_edgex23]

Oh excellent! *applauds*

[shinyhappygoth]

*bows* I flatter myself that it sounds far deeper than it actually is, which I think qualifies it as Literature. ;-)

[i_am_your_host]

Lovely <3

[shinyhappygoth]

<3

[hot_water]

Oh, wow, that's awesome.

[shinyhappygoth]

Thanks! Yay for random acts of poetry. :-)