The no-more lives in Antarctic caves,
The cold, wet caverns
Of will-less stone corridors

The no-more lives alone and hungry,
Feeding on mushrooms
That bloom only occasionally

The no-more is found by so many people
Aimlessly wandering
In his cold, wet home in Antarctica

The no-more is happy when these people find him
He tells him his stories
And shares his rare and bland fungus

The no-more is met by the people who are stuck alone
But are truly in a crowd
And are finding the will to stop it all

The no-more, in its simplicity
Has inspired the power
To break the chains of their endless suffering

The no-more tells these strangers its call
“No More!”
And mimicking him, they set off to use it elsewhere

The no-more has watched these strangers for hundreds of years
Teaching them every time
“No more!”

The no-more, without realizing it,
has given them the tool to escape
and like good men they will escape
leaving the no-more to whimper it’s
cry:

no more