Poetry

The Frontier of Dementia

With a fire in his eyes for a future unknown,
The knight of old begins his ride.

Long will he travel, and far will he go,
To the ends of this Earth and the stars far beyond.

The fringe waits silently, forever aware of oncoming prey,
With haste he makes towards the limitless edge.

Sanity has come and sanity has gone,
But lunacy still is another thing.

For years he has stirred, in silence alone,
Waiting for the day that he may ride once again.

And now the day has come, to drive with ferocity,
To chase the wind with hardly a care.

The fringe awaits still, its instinct knows,
Of those who will come that it may consume.

He rides on with a purpose through the moonlit night,
Pushing his steed with a passionate might.

The fringe he knows too, is expecting his pass,
To savor the taste of a mind that is lost.

But because he knows, he understands the way,
To beat the fringe, he must not stray.

So ever onward will he drive through the night,
With dreams of finding the treasures long lost.

Asa Jay