My arms and legs were tied.
The bindings bridled my imaginations.
My feet were glued to familiar ground.
My envious home had copious windows.
I could see freedom leaping over the hills.
I saw it frolicking with the wind.
I heard it calling to me in a sympathetic voice.
“I can see the desires in your heart.
I live vicariously through in your spirit.
What words you thought were wrong,
Are words that will give you wings
And release you from your restraints,
And let you fling yourself into the wild.”
Where invention lives deep in the wild,
With its overgrown shrubs and untrodden paths,
Its unnamed villages and pure waters,
Its whimsical words that dare you to use,
Its writers’ paradise that lives in the spirit,
Its dance that needs courageous dancers,
Its tired songs that need fresh melodies,
Its ushers that will seat you into the wild,
Its kindly winds that will let you ride with them,
Its swirling tempests that you can play with,
Its soft clouds that you can jump into,
Its freedom song that will let you sing it,
Its permission to let you lose yourself,
And its care-free journey into a poetic maze.
It’s your new home that you can call home.
It’s that wild place in your imagination,
Where poets find the courage and dare to go.
It’s that journey that pulls us
Away from our inhibitions
And up into the wild,
To live and play with the poetic winds.