If ever I grow older,
may it be as one who has surrendered
to hope
and pleasure in the journey.

I am told a tale
That I can't say I believe
I am unmoved
I walk through walls

Into nothing
I throw my foolish self
Weak willed

Save for my heart
Thoughts of treasure
Truer than this moment

Bound by silly tales
I do not see
In the end we all believe
If not in star filled skies
Then heroes

Once was made for fairy tales
yet still I journey backwards
ignoring the apparent fruitlessness of wishing

My life plays in color shot through with light
The music accompanies each scene with a chord, a lyric, a tune from my childhood

But it is these moments --
when the poems write themselves in my head
when all that I see and feel and smell and taste and hope for is aptly held
in the description my unconscious composes for me --
That I see the world with newly opened eyes
And feel most deeply embedded in my own life as the story it is becoming