No More

Once upon a planet,

Following a distant star,

A daft old man stole a magic box,

And ran so ever far.

But the man grew old,

And the box grew scared

That one day he may die;

For without her thief,

The box did fear,

The box may never fly.

But the man decided he’d have no more

Of this whole dying game.

He took a newer, younger form

And kept his running way.

But then his planet tracked him down

For the magic box he stole

And sentenced him to exile on

A little bluish stone.

He walked the earth until he died,

But when death had its prey,

The old man shouted out, “No more!”

And donning yet another form,

Younger even than before,

He kept right on his way.

He kept this up, each time he died,

Always he would escape.

Each time he’d mortally decline,

He would regenerate.

Until one day, he and the box,

Went off to stop a war,

Between the people of his home

And enemies implored.

He could not watch the agony, so try against he might,

He was forced to wipe out them all, both sides, to end the fight.

And now he walked the universe,

Alone, he and his box,

But then he made a friend or two,

Though the running never stopped.

He and they and the magic box,

Explored the world, until they lost

Each other to the paradoxes,

Spoilers,

Demons,

Ticks and tocks.

But then he and the magic box,

They ran so far, that when they stopped

He stepped out back onto the day

He’d cried “No more!” and done away

With his home world of Gallifrey

And the demons that were there to stay.

It’d been nearly four hundred years,

He’d run so fast from that day in fear

Of the man that he was, because,

Because,

Because—

He knew not what the reason was.

He’d had almost forty decades

To contemplate what he did that day,

To store it someplace far away

From memory, but now, he would say,

“‘No more’ is right, but needs context

We could destroy them, yes, yes,

Or there could be another way,

And in all these years, in all these days,

I fin’ly know how it could have played!

And thank God that the day’s today!

The day that we save Gallifrey!”

So the man went back into his box,

And the man he was had similar thoughts

So together in their boxes magic,

The man prevented the fateful tragedy

That would have subsequently ensued.

The man put the planet on a magic canvas,

A pocket world, so the demons’ span

Of lights

And lasers

And plungers

And tasers

Hit each other

In their own crossfire!

And the day was saved, and the man at peace

He had nothing to run from, for now, at least.

But now that he’d tucked his world away,

In another world, for it to stay…

He must run off to find that place

And rescue Planet Gallifrey!

So still he runs, he and the box.

Though now with friends, he never stops.

Through time and space and ticks and tocks,

It’s always him

And them

And the box.

And the moral of this story sung

Is that when you try to run,

From what you’ve done

Or who you are

Or where you’re from,

The earth is round, so you will come

Right back to where you started from.

But another point I believe is in store,

For when fate comes knocking at your door,

And full submission it implores,

You may choose to make it your lord

And follow the script word-for-word,

Or you can look fate in the eye

And shut the door.

And say, “No more.”