With such dexterity I make a world of my own.
Only here can I hew my imagination with intense zeal
To create greater imagination.
Here we see a prodigy that is us.
It seems that with no exertions,
Through the haze it is evident,
That our blithe thoughts can come together
Even in joviality but never be arid.
Our blithe thoughts are imbued in an extra color of fervor.
Sometimes I am aghast in consternation.
Sometimes I solely see content thoughts.
But when I wake, like in an act of larceny,
The dream of my own is taken away.
I act like a tracer and find if I open the back door it is not gone,
Only blocked by a masonry which my bolting
Can muster power and be gold
All my troops muster in the light to sweep up the twisted dream
And I am often left confused with an odd slice of fantasy.