The people there welcomed me as they had done
A hundred years before. The door is there just where I found it.
At the back of the funhouse
                                   Who is to say if I am the fantasy and the more real.
                                   As I cross over slowly from this to that I hear the mad hatter. Lament his timing.
The march hare. Entered with a face of brass.
And a smile miles.wide.

He only knew the darkness inside the dream that I dreamt.
He had warned me at length of the wages. As pages crinkled and worn slowly turned with no reader enthralled.

Time ******.
Folding forever into small origami. And ****.
The hand is quicker than the eye.
but is it. Really?.
This is an utter flight of fantasy. Free fall.

Find the breadcrumb trail
To the edge of the woods.
Or stay if it suits you.
Time is of no essence here.

The door sits in the crack of forever and never.
Seek and you shall find.
Salvation awaits.
Or damnation like the gaping maw of the white whale.

Fulfill your destiny or
Choose to fail.