Between points there is a place
In and Out of Time and Space
Seen by Eye that has no face

Where the moon sits on your nose

A place where places seem to be
Where fear of "What if?" binds the free
iced volcanoes, boiling seas

Serpents paint their toes

Ancients grasp for one more breath
Newborns gasp and cry for Death
Cups are full of Nothing Left

and endless overflows

All that's had and all that's made
is formed by mixing light and shade
Should one appear and the other fade

there's nothing else that shows

A funny place of great contrast
that does not end and cannot last
Where the Future's carried by the Past

Present never tarries

Air weights you down like lead
Travelers move about in heads
Life smells like onion bread

Death taste like cherries