Wyrm in the Wood

Maybe there's a worm hidden in the wood

And maybe there is magic beyond what's understood

But if there is a chosen one, I know it isn't me

And if there's meaning in the myth, there's none where I can see

My mind was built on scaffolds of story, my soul on a framework of song

Despite evidence to the contrary, I knew there was a place I'd belong

But I grew older, and some would say wiser, with every inch that was grown

I learned to stop looking as tired as my eyes were, for doorways to some land unknown

Maybe there's a worm hidden in the wood

And maybe there is magic beyond what's understood