My imagination is made from –

the ripe muscles of the pale moon,

the blazing tail of the sun,

the musical hymns of the galaxy,

the lonely joy of a decrepit witch,

and the shadow of the horizon.

I found it –

hunched over where the sea meets land,

sobbing in the depths of my mind,

sitting atop an immense redwood tree,

frolicking in the scarlet fields of a youth’s dreams,

where goats scream like the screeching sound of an old gate.

This imagination can –

smother miserable thoughts,

crush futile feelings,

boil the sun within an instant,

play with time like a ball,

If I lost this imagination –

I would cruise perpetually in despair.