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
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Image credit: Pixabay