Imagination

Imagination

There was a time when I believed
The sky was wider
Than even the most eloquent pen.
The clouds sailed farther than the greatest
White curtains, the stars never dimmed –
Only went to sleep under the sun’s blanket.

I believed an albatross
Could hang around and like a bard
Ring out a tale older than winds.
That black cats sent shivers down your eyes
Because they’d seen the truth
Between ladders, and are kind enough to share.

There was a time
Called apathy,
And it was made from the dreams
Some would rather forget,
And others turn cheek and rebuke.
When I believed
In something beyond the eyelid,
When I called out
And demanded that the skies
Open further,
I could dream of what it would
Be like to bleed just a little too much,
To feel a kind of cold,
Because some days it was just too hard
To know something like warmth,
The shadows behind curtains.
The arbor under trees and bushes and pretty
Flowers I could crawl beneath
Have wilted, collapsed, concaved
To the point that now
When I find a speck of warm clouded sun
Left behind,
I tuck it deep within myself,
And I save it for the days
When I want so hard to believe
My blood could become some kind of ink,
Some method or power or gift or curse or even
Some kind of excuse to believe
That one day I could pretend,
And it could simply be true.

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