Poetic Prose: Bandersnatch and I

Ahead of me the path meanders,

It weaves around the wood and field,

Mostly walked by those who wander,

Seeking what the day will yield.

 

It weaves around the wood and field

As graceful as a swan set sail,

Seeking what the day will yield

Hunting down a hidden grail

 

As graceful as a swan set sail,

I dodge its artful, playful catch.

Hunting down a hidden grail,

I have no time for Bandersnatch.

 

I dodge its artful, playful catch,

And fall aside from the fateful way.

I have no time for Bandersnatch,

For as I fall, I pray.

 

The Bandersnatch and I have been hunting for the same grail for years now, and every time one of us thinks they're drawing close, the other is never far behind.  A crone I consulted on the matter took gold and an expensive, virgin goat from me, sacrificed the goat and lifted handfuls of warm, reeking entrails up to my face.

"You see how they twine amongst each other?" she screeched, her breath almost worse than the offal.  "That is you and the Bandersnatch, doomed to dance with one another.  Maybe you can save the last dance for me!"

I left her to her laughter and many meals of goat.

I fall to the ground with a wet squelch; the meadow on this side of the path is a watermeadow.  I can hear the Bandersnatch gibbering madly nearby but the jagged pain in my arm tells me I have broken something.  As I struggle to force myself back to my feet, I could swear that I can hear dance music somewhere in the distance.

 

The End

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