So often I flirt with two competing worlds,
One that we can all touch, feel, smell.
Yet beyond this lies a second world, so beautiful and free,
Born entirely in my head.
I wish I could take you there.
I’ll take you there.
Mountains of silver tower humbly over valleys of orange,
The moon never sets, the sun never rises,
Yet the colors of the world explode onto the land like a Pollack canvas.
The rivers are aplenty with creatures unimaginable to the rational,
Birds and hawks glide through the air in majestic columns of orderly freedom,
Forests crowd the hillsides, blanketing the land in a dark-green jacket.
Lakes sparkle with the pearly white reflection of glaciers painted in its waters,
Pristine snow of the purest white tops alpine summits, undisturbed.
The songs of the land emanate from the singers of the forest,
Performing a dazzling concert of velvety-rich tones, bouncing off the
Sturdy redwoods and marble cliffs surrounding. A choral performance for the ages.
Somewhere on top of a mountain resides a castle fit for kings.
Despite this, no kings reign in this land. None at all.
I am the only inhabitant of our kind, a lone wolf in a deep forest,
Surrounded by a deep frontier unreachable by even the most experienced adventurer.
Every time I exit my room onto a porch of solid cedar plank,
I sip the fresh-brewed coffee that rests calmly in the palm of my hands.
With every gulp, I discover a new part of the world.
A curtain opens itself upon the horizon, and a new land, with new features and designs, emerges into plain view.
New lands, unbounded in their distance, unbounded in the hope and opportunity that resides within them.
I can stand alert on the balcony, and with the gentle motion of my fingers spring life from deserts and drown the forests in Drought.
With the quiver of a feather, filled to the brim with silky ink, upon the parchment in front of me, I can command the land.
Create new things.
With the motion of a body part, I can give happiness and prosperity to the birds and the bees that are so trodden upon in ‘our’ World.
Here, the wolves are not devilish creatures; they are loved for who they are.
The hills do not march to the drill of machines, but rather to the hopes of dreams.
The forests do not splinter with the quake of axes but instead prosper beyond the reach of the prairie grasses.
I am but a creative writer, sculpting the land in prose fitting for all the animals of the world that we’ve failed.
I do not fail in my creation.
Years pass, yet they do not take a toll on my spirit.
My hairs may grey and my stature may shrink,
Though my soul knows no age.
It bounces between the canyon walls, making a nest with the cardinals perched upon a loose branch.
Then it dives towards the forest floor, galloping alongside with a herd of deer prancing through the limitless forests.
It makes itself home with a prairie dog scurrying along the grasses, peeking its curious eyes over a never-ending horizon.
It finds itself once more in a lone wolf, forgotten by a familiar pack long gone.
Scarred by the passage of time itself, he howls his last song towards the heavens.
My soul races towards the sky, dashing for a midnight canvas a-lit by a varying quilt of gleaming stars and galaxies.
I’m floating through space itself, lost amongst vastness,
Gliding between plantesimals, quarks, and all the beautiful unknowns that even this fantasy-land cannot attempt to Comprehend.
I can peer at a hole in this canvas, beyond my simple recognition,
Something that transcends boundaries of fact and fiction.
I near closer to the ultimate zenith of understanding.
I reach out my curious fingertips failingly in an attempt to touch the stars.
The journey ends, and I swiftly fall back to the floor of knowledge.
Drifting back to my porch on that lonely abode of mine,
Perched upon slopes of a mountain that I call destiny,
I survey the tract of land stretched beyond me,
And look up to the Cosmos shining above, and smile.
For I have created a dream land,
A land where man sees peace and justice, yet still seeks the ultimate truth,
The ultimate truth that unknowingly slips away from my grasp,
With each expedition that I take to the Cosmos above.