who among the innocent and young were fain not to succumb,
children forever changed; to eternity's temptation and its flesh-abjuring charm?
by neverland enchanted, upon it enchained the endless nightly wanderings, where souls with souls spellbound with souls' naive sin.
those who are children err or will encroach daily ever moreso, than the unflouting, meek lambs asleep nightly in their warm cot.
Upon guilt-ridden crib of crosses moreover than their bedstead they did not sleep,
and were not through rose-petal littered, hard and thorny path delivered to Lord.
In neverland eternal, they feign a shallow sleep with closed eyes in a spiraling fall,
while in those nightmarish island jungles they dream God's wakeful dying dream.
In neverland, the innocent chases after the sinned; those were the transgressed goddaughters and godsons, in His chosen wild circuit.
In neverland, the prey devours the beasts; and when the chased ones scoop water from the shallow riverbed, God has in his hand a palmful of watery nothing, save for formless sands.
Ye Great God Pan, O Great God Pan, the starry-horned Goat-Master, clad in decaying purple mist, and shoed in green he was,
with aethelings' gem-laden, precious crowns raised upon earth;
Peter were once his disciple and Son, resists he yet by wanderlust in this wild dream, now against His all-mighty will,
along with the sinned body of children, ever chased after---in the innocents' eye: a motley of fools, an unshepherded band.
neverland had never come to its end, even while the Lion of europe was slain,
by goaring boars and lusting swine-wyrms alike,
blooming red in its demesnes,
the wise preys wallowing in his blood, and basking in his flesh and sin akin.
in hallowed, juvenile field of waste, eternally a pallid empty spot remaineth,
there a liquid stain gifted through the Night stays whereupon his dead body once lay.
the vermillion bone-urns made for flowers had received it not, now in youth dried and ground to the soppy dust or their loss,
and in resignation the dust were sent away by Aiolos's far-sailing winds.
In neverland, among the purgatorial game of chase...
the children withered in expiration, or disappeared in the scented woods
till waking from their first wet dream---
thus the soil yet demandeth the inchoate seeds...thus demandeth transient life from everlasting life…thus the cosmos below the feet demandeth life's katabasis.
What might Peter, pious and guiltless Child of Pan have ever done,
ever before his nightly-hooved, haze-horned and all-mighty God?
if Pan were never have lived, or dead was He, then may the Tyger come out hither to claim its bountiful prize of meat--
of the jungles burning bright, where scions of men awaken neither through sleep nor sleep-walking, but time-loosening vagaries of a dim dream.
of the jungles burning bright, the Tyger Eternal liveth and reigneith, perishing the immolated night.
Over the corpse of the Great dead God Pan, and before the Tyger, standeth Peter Pan, shivering in dead Pan's awe.
Yet the Tyger kneels before him by the wooded stream and became still, and soon at the break of dawn,
from within his mouth sounded a piece of elegiac reed.