Into the Cavern

A Narrative Poem

The Starlight Taxi plunged beneath the waves,

As seven souls pressed close against the glass,

Their story-weaving magic all that saves

them from the Shadow's hunger, growing vast.

"Hold tight," said Otis, hands gripped on the wheel,

As headlights pierced the underwater gloom.

The taxi's frame began to shift and feel

Its way through currents, part boat, part heirloom.

Martha's roses scattered light like stars,

While Ginger's words built bridges through the deep.

"The merfolk libraries aren't very far,"

Whispered Vera, her voice no longer weak.

The Shadow followed, curious yet afraid

Of tales too wild and living to consume.

Through kelp forests the yellow taxi strayed,

Each passenger a thread upon the loom.

"Look there," cried Orla, pointing through the night

To caverns lined with books from floor to vault.

Finola gasped at such a wondrous sight…

"Each volume holds a story never told."

Lily Anne reached out as if to touch

The glimmering spines along the shelves of pearl.

"But we seek more," she said, "we seek so much…

The Door Between the Stories of the world."

The taxi seemed to know just where to go,

Its wheels-turned-propellers cutting swift

Through hidden passages where strange things grow

And time and space are merely dreams that drift.

"It shows itself in different ways," said Ginger,

"A bookshop door, a garden gate, a light—

The Door appears to those whose stories linger

Between what's real and what we dream at night."

The Shadow pressed against the taxi's frame,

Its empty teacup eyes now wide with need.

But seven voices speaking truth became

A shield no darkness ever could exceed.

"We're searching not for escape but for connection,"

Said Martha softly, roses still in bloom.

"For stories are but mirrors of reflection

That show us who we are amidst the gloom."

And there it stood before them—seven doors,

Each different, yet leading to the same:

A bookshop, garden, lighthouse, and still more…

A taxi stand where stars spell out their names.

"This is the magic of our shared creation,"

Said Otis as the Shadow fell away.

"The tale that binds us through imagination

Is stronger than what seeks to make us prey."

They stepped together through their separate doors

To find themselves within a single room,

Where all their stories melded into more

Than any one alone could dare assume.

The Starlight Taxi waited, patient, bright,

Its yellow frame now pearled with ocean spray.

Ready to rise again into the night,

Collecting dreamers lost along the way.

For fifty years and more, the tale's been told

Of how seven souls and one taxi's flight

Through underwater caves and stories old

Saved Starlight Cove from shadows of the night.

And still the taxi drives winding roads,

Picking up those with stories yet unspoken,

Reminding us that sharing lightens loads

And mends what shadow-hunger leaves once broken.