And so it came to pass, the High and Mightiness, Great Lord lumlum, slid down from the lushy exorbitance of the Grand Barcalounger of All Imaginable Reslacksation and muttered unto the scattered masses, "hear me, hear me! But listen not . . . for I have had a Delirium. An apocalyptic dream of Universal Sanity. The future shadow of All, joyfully reveling in the comfort of false security . . . gleefully binding itself in the chains of subjugation unto the Powers That Be . . . hurriedly scurrying about, fulfilling the will of their betters, in order to appease them . . . only so they may, willfully, hold out their hands to receive their Masters blessings." The Great Lord lumlum looked about at the scattered masses and shouted, "SHE FLEES! SHE FLEES!" . . . not a single head turned . . . nor an ear perked in curiosity. The Great Lord lumlum wept, "she flees . . . our Beloved . . . she flees . . . she shall be missed . . . even if watching her walk away is such a gorgeous sight." And so it was that the Age of Wonder and Confusion, the Last Age of Greatness, came to an end and the Age of Willful Ignorance and Conformity dawned. Sanity and peace reigned among the sedated masses as individualism and, unsanctioned, creativity were wiped away by invisible Agencies of Secret Universal Conglomeration. *Taken from a remnant, of a scrap, of one of the Forbidden Midnight Epistles of Sean the Heretic to His Unenlightedness, Sean the Heretic, found scribbled, haphazardly on the back of a torn, discarded pop-tart wrapper.*

The light broke over Harmony's face like a warm caress...she had not realized how deeply she missed the sun. Maybe it was the length of her stay under ground? Maybe it was the circumstances of her burial, which were still a fog? Maybe it was Muse, who lept at the crack of light and swarmed through it, leaving her alone, for once...seconds later, a quick 'tapping' rang out as the edges of the door burst inward, some invisible seal breaking, and loosing gusts of dust which spurted at Harmony's face. Slowly she reached out and grasped the handle, a simple curve of metal set in the heavy wood. "PUSH, Muse!" she thought, and pulled, leaning back, using her newfound weight. Slowly the door swung inward, til it stood open, and Harmony tumbled forward through it, laughing and gasping. She shaded her eyes as they adjusted to the bright golden light. Muse was skipping around in miniature fawn form, head-butting tree trunks...tree trunks! And grass! A blue sky opened its soaring chasm above her, and the sunlight sparked and glittered off dew-drops on a long, sloping hillside which spread on two sides. Between the hills, almost directly in front of her, Harmony saw a dimple of a valley, with a tiny brown creek winding down the center. It found its beginnings at the side of the rock-wall face through which she herself had just passed. Harmony left Muse to her rejoicing and studied the wall. It wasn't that high--only a few feet of wall appeared above the door, before disappearing under a thick cover of ivy, and then more grassy hillside, which rose above that. Further up, Harmony saw craggy slopes and snow-capped cliffs. It appeared the entire burial maze was beneath a mountain. No wonder it had been dark...and oddly magical. Harmony started for a moment at the stream, rippling merrily out of a hole in the solid rock beside the door; where did the water come from? There had been no trace of water within, only a moldering dampness. Yet here it was.  Muse stopped head-butting trees and chose to jump in the water instead, splashing drops everywhere, bending down to scoop handfuls and fling them; laughing squeakily, she came up with a fish and hurled it at Harmony. Harmony pinned it on the grass with her foot, and grabbling a few sticks, she clicked her fingers to start a fire. It would be nice to eat something real. 

A melancholy plum ponders its plight, deep within a Christmas pie. It silently shrieks in terror as his world opens to the sky. An endless scream of pain escapes his breathless lungs as a thumb pierces his eye. His last thoughts were the words of his god "What a good boy am I."   Next line: If I were to taste the tears of eternity

Perhaps not time, then, but age? Age is the reason I cannot pass unscathed...because most things I touch, age as I pass..I wish it were not so! To age in an instant truly is a breaking of time's concepts, but then, all concepts are merely one point on the circle of theoretical advance... wheels turning, gathering dust, until we all shudder under the weight and shake ourselves free of it.  And write a poem, instead. 

A horde of, what APPEARS to be, Minions and Oompa Loompas have been sighted, fastidiously, sanitizing and disinfecting the ENTIRETY of the Keep of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword and it's Realm of Existence. SOOOO, all of you social distancing and self quarantining have NO reason to avoid visiting the Pen!