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#=~::¨¨¨¨¨ I FOLLOW THE TIRE TRACKS WEST. THEY GO ¨¨¨¨¨::~=#
@&=;:¨¨¨¨¨ PARALLEL WITH THE RAILROAD, WITH ITS ¨¨¨¨¨:;=&@
##@#&=;~:¨ ENDLESS MIRRORS LOOKING KINDA OILY. AN ¨:~;=@##
##@#&=;~:¨ INCREDIBLE POWER BOUND THERE... THERE'S ¨:~;=@##
@&==~¨¨¨¨¨ A WIRE FENCE TO SEPARATE THE TWO ROADS. ¨¨¨¨¨~==&@
#&&===;~:¨ ¨:~;===&
##@#&=;~:¨ EVEN THOUGH THERE'S A FOGGY QUALITY TO ¨:~;=@##
###&;;:¨¨¨ THE AIR, THE PATH I FOLLOW IS GLOWING. ¨¨¨:;;##
##@#&=;~:¨ A YELLOW-GREEN MOSS HAS TAKEN HOLD ¨:~;=@##
##&&;;~::¨ WHERE THE MACHINES WHO MADE THESE ¨::~;;&#
@@&=~¨¨¨¨¨ TRACKS ONCE DISTURBED THE CLOVER FIELD. ¨¨¨¨¨~=&@@
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@##&&=;~:¨ WE'RE OFF THE SEASON WHEN THE BIRDS ¨:~;=&#@
##@#&=;~:¨ SING BEAUTIFULLY. THESE DAYS IT'S JUST ¨:~;=@##
##@#&=;~:¨ SCREECHES, OR CALLS FOR HELP. ¨:~;=@##
#@##&=;~:¨ ¨:~;=#@#
##@#&=;~:¨ I THINK OF THE JACKDAW I MAIMED ¨:~;=@##
###@#=;~:¨ YESTERDAY. I FEAR THE DREAMING GATE. ¨:~;=#@###
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