Panting haplessly inside a dark tunnel,
A boy in shorts wants to make it to the end
Before the punctual rail engine breathes out fire,
Crushes him to his pyre.
Is it the star, down at evening,
Generous and timid- its red laser
Or the butcher train and its burning yellow?
Frightened, he runs for life towards the light-
For he was told light was knowledge.
The science of probability, common sense-
All pointed to the exit,
The exit welcoming- either honest or satanic;
He'd never know which one,
Unless he reached there.