you once knew that dimension of shadows,
that other plane of existence-
where myth and legend exist
in a multi-seonsory disarray
that shimmers and renders
the world, the moth, the flame
in the beat streets at dawn with a crowd of mutants and misfits who dug your riff and swayed with the techno music blasting from a generation that gave a try to flower power, and like a lava lamp, morphed into a dance of electronic tribes.
wait.
stop.
where did it all go?
so i'm out, you tell yourself,
i no longer walk within the walls of that cryptic place,
but the truth is in the olden tales,
or have you forgotten, agent 23?
that you can rest assured
no one ever leaves the shadows of Valhalla.