Outer Spaces (poem)
Dreams exist in countless places, like rolling oceans with cloudy faces. Morphing mists where outer space is.
You’ll never force entry with power like that of a motor or meditation, but you might access staring at a flower while sitting on a quiet sailboat lost in imagination. The sun reflects perfectly at dusk and dawn. When the day ends though, the light isn’t gone. When the wind’s at your back, the gusting music stops. It’s like you’re not moving. But when the sun falls you blink at your sun flower, and confound at wonders and mystical power! The air is… water? The sun rebounded. You don’t feel like you’re moving, but you don’t feel like you’re grounded.
The yellow hue is drawing you near, knowledge and pain fall with your fear. Rippling above is restrictive gravity. The earth is so small, a greenish blue ball, self-righteous in importance, relevance, taxation, impedance.
But, like, suit yourself earth. I enjoy my self-worth. …Maybe I’ll visit when I’m feeling down and want gravity to pull me around.
So, I think I’ll fly over here. See how Oz is doing. Or hit up Aslan and see what Narnia’s brewing. Although, I heard Bilbo’s got some baller smoking leaf, so we’ll play board games with Gandalf while Frodo makes tea.
There are plenty of places I’ll visit, but not dwell, like Dante’s inferno and silly Winterfell. Granted, the good, the bad, and the ugly are interesting, but, they’re artifacts pre-made by other’s sintering. Goblins and ghouls haunted me plenty as a child, and I’d wish them well to keep running wild.
I’ll make discoveries as I create them, day lit dreams of fantasy mayhem.
Do you think I’m looking for a meaning or point to this story? Why would I ruin such glory? I feel words like wind in my hair, and capture their essence in verse. So maybe with all these words you hear, you’ll see you’re a star in a vast multiverse.