Power of imagination

 

If the mind is as powerful as Hercules

And imagination is the magic wand

Tittered by the all-powerful mind

Why are we still asleep?

 

Why aren’t people opening up their minds?

Is it because we have lived in death?

And death still pulls us so

That we charge in it without shame?

 

What is death to the mind?

Is it the trickster that keeps playing games?

Given the body as a cross

To run up and down

 

What is in imagination that runs from death?

When children young come alive

They imagine fairies, they play in the rain

But once old, it all goes bleak

 

Darkness looms, that’s the lord of death

Compartmentalising everything in the cube

We dare not break the mould, it is tight

Who can bear to live without the master?

 

When all rule of law, in the Saturn cube

Boxing off our imagination, creating graves

For that is the sickle farming death

The decay of generations in Saturn’s cube

 

Release your imagination that’s the magic

Your mind should be free of all the fuss

But who hasn’t seen a child escape?

By the backdoor of their mind

 

You call it magic, this is why

It blossoms like flowers in the spring

And brings forth a scent of life

That charges all back to youth

Linzo

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Image credit: Pixabay