My senior year in high school, I was surely battling some unrecognized depression. My dad was in graduate school; his divinity school had those “mushroom lights” around most of the sidewalks on campus.
Anyway, I had already read “Lord of the Rings” once, and was re-reading it. It prompted me to try to call out to Earendil one night while walking by the mushroom lights, as described by this extended-haiku poem.
A ELBERETH GITHONIEL
Earendil, hear;
A Elbereth Githoniel;
Elrond, set me free.
So said a young teen,
Depressed and seeking escape —
Frodo’s Middle Earth.
But nothing happened;
No transmogrification;
Mushroom lights stayed fixed.
Homeward back I trudged
Depressed and distressed yet more
With no one to hear.
Is this all Fourth Age?
Elbereth availed me not —
I still lack magic.
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