Imagination

As a child, my thoughts flew wild.

I'd look at trees and see poly-limbed-leaf-beings.

Puddles were the ocean vast.

Curtains in the breeze were dance partners.

Everybody was a friend!

Oh how wonderful, the possibilities of the big world were, to a lanky six year old.

Over time, Life took over.

I looked around and saw war and crime;

I saw separation and divide and hatred. So much hatred.

For what?

Soon Reality brought his heavy bags and made a home of me.

Imagination slinked around the corners of my mind's room,

poking her head out every now and then; hoping to fly again.

But she never did.

And heavy I was!

Is this why we all become cynics as we grow older?

The Utopia of childhood ever so often is replaced by an adult Dystopia!

Rose-tinted glasses make way for thorn rimmed lenses.

Why did the world turn bad?

That is not the question,

The question is.

What can I do to make it ever so slightly, better?

As I asked myself this,

My mind's guests seemed to scuffle.

Reality shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

And guess who emerged out of the shadows?