Entering the world of fantasy,
While working with keyboard and pen,
Is easily done, when first begun,
By founding the where and the when.
–
Time away allows thoughts to gel;
A sense of solitude pushing through.
Will wisdom let you draw it in?
Will time allow it to brew?
–
Mollified by the quietude,
It surprisingly sets in motion
An allowance from the order of nature itself
To have fantasy procure a notion.
–
Allowing wandering thoughts to take form,
There are pleasing mysteries there.
Whimsical daydreams, hardly in focus,
And beckoning fantasies to embrace without care.
–
Imperfections surface, while the senses dance.
A maze appears, and a boundary’s crossed.
A notion takes hold, but is not understood.
A truth comes to light, but in moments is lost.
–
Based on things whether known or not,
But made manifest in a growing passion.
Seeing nuances revealed at a distance,
Interpreting, after a fashion.
–
Tampering with that which is way beyond grasp.
Attempting to transcend space.
Avoiding the scars of words unspoken.
Treating the unholy with grace.
–
Concepts unfold like gentle whispers.
Listen, lest the words take flight.
They give birth to a borrowed serenity,
While setting each nuance alight.
–
Epiphanies in time become mundane,
While continually taking stock,
Forever wandering in a single moment,
Yet filtered by the clock.
–
Retracing the steps made in moments passed,
Or content to just endlessly roam.
By some strange syncopation, the world runs on,
And the present moment eventually comes home.
–
Does the circling of birds stir the plot?
Does the breeze blow in something new?
Does the setting of the sun settle what’s done?
And what will the morning bring into view?
–
All rhythms and rhymes, slowly fade,
And the climb becomes more steep.
Allow all the clamour to drift away,
With the safety net of sleep.
–
All of this is easily done,
By creating the where and the when.
Just to be, by the sea, while holding the key,
To chalet number ten.
