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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. #.#.#.#.#.
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#.#..#.#.# 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. #.#.#.#.#.
#.#.##.#.#                                          #.#.#.#.#.
#.#..#.#.# 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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