Walkway of Infinity

It was an infinite walkway
Of glass and nothing more,
And with a soundless silence,
That empty, crystal floor.

For in both sides it did extend
An infinite direction,
And high above in space it floated,
That walkway of detention.

I was a traveler walking through,
And did I see the stars,
That twinkled across the unseen walls,
In the vacuum that glass bars.

I was alone or so I thought,
Wandering that astral plane,
And then I saw you walking by,
A hopeless vision insane.

But then our paths took us quite near;
I saw you in detail.
I reached my hand to test my thought
And found that you were real.

We first stared at the blinking stars,
Then focused on each other,
We continued in unbroken silence
In some form or another.

It is intriguing, that idea,
The realness of infinity.
For both in space and time it gives
A feeling of affinity.

Time slips in infinity,
The walkway never ending.
But time does not get stuck and stop,
It always keeps on flowing.

We stayed together for some time,
But then we had to part.
You’ll stay in my true memory,
Forever in my heart.

O, that walkway of infinity,
That everlasting feeling.
I could not stay forever there,
For time has done its calling.

The Hunting of the Snark

The Hunting of the Snark Cover

In typical Lewis Carroll fashion, Lewis Carroll’s poem about the Snark is quite hilarious and nonsensical. The full title, “The Hunting of the Snark: an Agony in Eight Fits,” is a very fitting one, as the plot and chapter distribution do resemble the randomness of agonizing fits. Plus, the number 42 shows up three times, though one time indirectly (and yes, this was more than 100 years before the Hitchhiker’s Guide was written).

A sensible analysis by me is out of the question, so I direct you with no further delay to the poem’s full text on Project Gutenberg. If you want a non-spoiler plot summary: a group of people embark on a journey to capture a Snark. If you DO want a good analysis of it, see The Annotated Snark by Martin Gardner.

The most lol passage:

There was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had bought for the trip.

He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.

The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pair of boots—but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.