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Glimpses

J Ann Crowder

I live with a sense of solimnity impending
 
So I cling to those kinds of dreams shaking me awake in the dark
 
Anxiety, my mind in shackles, leaves happiness bound for a time
 
Until, glimpses of light peer in through endless mazes of tunnel visions
 
Like a blind man seeing earth in the darkness through his other senses
 
Imagine now, reality is imagination and imagination is reality
 
Because only when we imagine, as the blind man sees in the dark, do we truly see reality
 
When dreams of truth dash the solemn tides
 
No longer do I belong in a box, gift wrapped to strangers
 
I become the air and sustenance to life being
 
Because, breathing air can be pointless
 
Thus, breathing oceans in my dreams become my magic castles
 
Like breathing soul into my lungs
 
Because the inner being lives not on oxygen
 
The living soul lives upon the untraceable threads of invisible, woven worlds
 
Thus painted lines, not tangible to our surface of clean hourglasses marking time in increments, really do exist
 
Because infinity is reality, as fireflies stir the infinite, untouchable hues within—the star dancers born on sacred wishes trapped inside
 
‘Tis artfully shaped like a heart, or sun
‘Tis warm like a hearth
‘Tis strong like an ocean’s heavy, blue wave
‘Tis a silent melody, like earth’s mysterious science

A deep, reflecting type poem. A story of a mediocre life, fitting perfectly into the boxes we were taught to fit into. We think this is reality, or most realistic. However, our mind has no limits. If we believe the life and magic in our minds can be real, it will. Most inventors were laughed at, because their imaginations allowed them to think outside the box. If what we can imagine can turn into something tangible and real, perhaps we are most alive and real when we are living within our imagination. “Believing is seeing.” Literally! I have always been fascinated with seeing the world through the eye of our imagination rather than using the realistic and mundane to rule our lives. The imagination is therefore more realistic. Art, invention, dance, tapestry, world, galaxy, all inhabit infinite space. How fascinating not to confine ourselves to a box, limitations, and a mere adherence to the mundane belief that those who imagine with a broader stoke of color are the insane ones. Reality is this: the box is the thing that is imagined, not the imagination itself.

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