And Now to Yield

Observing from the margins
Of digital paradise,
The deceitful wanderer

Isn’t fooling anyone,
Isn’t even attempting
To sail off stranded island.

It’s a matter of watching
The weather, gods and titans
On the horizons rumbling

And thinking, at the same time,
Better not to linger here
But why bother to escape.

A good escape needs to know
How to get out and, roughly,
Where to go, even if not

How exactly to get there.
Just bolt, and you’ll be dragged back,
Each time weaker than before.

It’s not an awful spirit,
This age that possesses you,
Keeps you in captivity,

In thrall, no worse than any
Other spirit of an age.
There’s magic in the margins,

And the sun is on the cliffs,
A quiet light through the room.
Better to drift than resist.