Worlds

I’ve driven and trekked across the nation
In several cities, I’ve set up station
I’m so impressed by Mother Earth’s creations
and humankind’s boundless imagination

I’ve wandered the Windy City at night
and in New York skies, I’ve seen the sunlight
To swim beneath cliffs, I had to fight
You said this world was wide, and you were right

I’ve crossed bridges where strong winds have blown
Over seas, my tribe and I have flown
I’ve traveled with friends, I’ve traveled alone
I’m so grateful for everything I’ve been shown

I’ve walked from glaciers to beaches of sand
Rows of stones where water meets land
But I’m most intrigued, I now understand,
with the worlds created by my own hands

As far as worlds go, I’ve found there to be
more than one, in fact there are three
What I’ve described is the physical, all that we see
Mountains tall, oceans wide, and creatures free

Then there’s the emotional, it exists within
It’s our reactions to everything that has been
Where tangible events come to an end
Where all our hopes and sorrows begin

But the third world is an often untapped ether
Explored by artists and true believers
It exists beyond, our brains are the receivers
Touchable or thinkable, it is neither

Storytellers reach into this abyss
and return with tales of darkness and bliss
It contains an expansive and endless list
of any and all things that do not exist

Within this world you’ll find the impossible
Glorious mountains, trenches and obstacles
You’ll scour the stars or explore a roster full
of people and places simply not plausible

Stories and events that could never be
The most enchanting environments ever seen
Full of daunting tasks and clever feats
Where darkness and heroic endeavors meet

Where demons and devils and dragons are found
Where ghouls and ghosts hover around
Angels and goddesses wander the grounds
Monsters and knights fight for kings and crowns

Who says what we imagine is any less real
Than what we can physically reach out and feel
I swear the cloak of possibility conceals
another world that holds the power to heal

We listen to stories at our own discretion
Knowing each one contains a lesson
Perhaps a protest of real-world oppression
Or poetic emotional self-expression

Or maybe like a child simply playing pretend
It’s a way to take a fractured life and mend
the wounds into a beautiful thing that transcends
our reality, so we might be new once again

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.