A poem about ecstasy

Down the dark and winding lane
We walk, we walk, but not in vain
Briskly, we pace through cold night air
Without a reason, without a care
We look as if through lucid dream
At everything so crisp and clean
The night has never looked so black
Yet we’ve no mind for turning back
No tangled wood, no windswept lea
Could ever halt our tour-de-ville
No sleeping, moonlit neighbourhood
Can ever stop me feeling good
Underneath a starry sky
I feel my soul will never die
The conversation keeps apace
As we watch the diverse human race
People talk and people smile
They’re quite content to stop awhile
We don’t care what we say to them
As if we’re children once again
No contour slows our timeless stroll
And laughter keeps away the cold
Tomorrow’s cares won’t bring us down
In this unremarkable town
For up the waxing, dawn-lit lane
We walk, but know it wasn’t in vain.

– The Spideron, 1998

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