We drove our stakes in Middle Earth,
Raised our tent toward Earthsea’s sky;
On Trantor and on Mars we paused
To hear the sandworm’s sigh.
Beneath the sigh we heard a soft refrain
It rustled, and it whispered, and it sang!
“There is room! In my tent there’s lots of room!
Bring your goblins and your spacemen,
Your scientists, your children,
Adventurers and criminals,
Your starships and your capitols
As long as there is wonder, there is room.”
We brought in shards of Alderaan,
We hauled inside the Enterprise.
We played some games with that Wiggin kid,
We taught Clark Kent how to fly!
And as we watched our tent grow wide and tall
The song we’d heard filled wall to wall!
“There is room! In this tent, there’s lots of room!
There is space as huge as outer space
For any fan to call a place,
For trekkies and the whovians
As long as there is wonder, there is room!”
Now the tent is filled but not with song.
‘Cause someone on the webz is wrong.
“This corner’s mine, you stick to yours.
Or we will drive you out of doors!
Who told you to come and play?
You don’t belong here, go away!”
We throw an elbow— what’s it matter?
We tell a lie— but who’s it shatter?
Our politics—our glory.
We’ve forgotten how to story.
“There’s no room! In this tent, there’s no more room!
All entrants sign upon this line;
No -ists but -ists we think are fine.
Swear allegiance or don’t come in.
There’s plenty space in that trash bin!
It is no wonder we have no room!”
The tent is big; how big are we?
There is a binding here to find.
It’s about the room and not the noise;
It’s about the tent but not the sign.
Sing the song again! Whisper it or shout.
Fill your chest with tent-song until it rushes out!
“There is room! In our tent, you bet there’s room!
For the Slayers, for the prayers;
Atheistic quidditch players!
For mermaids and for guppies,
Social Warriors and Sad Puppies,
If you have brought your wonder, there is room!”