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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. ##..#.##.#
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#.##.#..#. WE'RE  OFF THE  SEASON  WHEN  THE  BIRDS ##..#.##.#
#..#.#.##. SING BEAUTIFULLY.  THESE DAYS  IT'S JUST .#.##..#..
#.##.#..#.      SCREECHES, OR CALLS FOR HELP.       ##..#.##.#
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#.##.#..#. I  THINK   OF   THE  JACKDAW  I   MAIMED ##..#.##.#
#..#.#.##.   YESTERDAY. I FEAR THE DREAMING GATE.   .#.##..#..
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