Grey walls, grey floors,
Automatic sliding doors
Green lights, follow, follow,
Obedience was all they know.

He couldn’t remember the rest.
We couldn’t remember resting.
We stood in the dark,
In something similar to that long-dead fantasy,
And we build a new one.

He dances.

His blue hair twists around him,
Stark yellow sunlight spills from cracks in the floor,
And as if lifting great weights from the ground,
His arms raise glowing screens from below us,
We stare in wonder,
He spins, slowly,
His figure moving to a beat only he can hear,
Then the light pulses before us,
Steadily flickering and growing brighter,
Writing appears,
His illustrations appear, his character transforming,
Then he rises into the air,
Metal strings, cords,
Wrap around his torso,
lifting him,
The rafters hold him fast,
And he calls down to us -
It's easy!

One by one,
We all start spinning,
More great light shields surround us,
And, flying,
we follow him to the ceiling.