Read enough old stuff and you start
To wonder about all those black woods
And impassable barriers. People
Inhabited pretty much everywhere
Then that they do in greater numbers
More recently. But the romance
Of the thing, the image of that
Beyond, back of which, heaven,
Midnight or nothing obtained,
Seems more plausible in another age.
There are barriers still to face,
Naturally. Try hiking past the gate
Of dying, where the guards' horses
Piss on the sleeping haiku poets'
Pillowed dreams. Try flying
Past the heliopause, the heart
Of the galaxy, the bent back bow
Of time. Never mind the damn arrow.