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jobinmyself_115
Emu Egg
Emu Egg

Joined: 29 May 2022
Age: 41
Gender: Male
Posts: 2
Location: DuBois, PA

29 May 2022, 9:19 am

This is part of a series of poems I wrote for creative/therapeutic purposes last year. I hope someone enjoys! :pr: :pl:

It was longer than I thought, so sorry for the import formatting issues.

Imagination Made Real


Take off your shoes and stockings too as we head for the realm of muted light
All can be seen, all will be felt, as we stand as a child on tiptoes enjoying the
Peace that serenity brings and colors unfurl as autumn leaves blow at night.

Stand as a watcher and where others have come and feel the ground swell, and move, and creep


Come to the gardenside long past dawn and wait for the darkness its soul to embrace.
Do not fear as you step into the vast array of musings of long past thought and feel your way into other thoughts.

Come to the garden where stories are lost, where tales begun, this one tale shall wrap ‘round And through the ground and like a tale told by a very old soul will tell the tale of stories lost

Come to the garden where magic is made and ask those like you to stop and sigh…

This is only imagination made real.


The musings are real in this place you will find no dragons or demons to slay
Just hurry up as time slows and knowing not that bright of day
Gleams harshly backwards.

The statues unearthed from a thousand minds and unfurled splendors are flags ‘round a vortex Pool of memories, mixed together in color-whirls whisked. The air is silent tonight as saints thank not the light of day. The points are lost in whisked color whirls as they suck down the bends of time left behind on this never-day.


In the square there is a street and nightlife gathers. Even-tempered but chaotic whirls of activity
Round about what should have been a golden way. The street paved deep with rainbowed hue As set upon a cloud. The tempest tossed sailings of yore, bold creatures screaming and lonely hearts weeping over the terrors of a forgotten world. The ship now docked upon the mount, you Would think this would be the end. But no offer burning as hues keep on churning and beast and Man again unite into the atoms of a colored night. Come to the mountain where stories were Made. See the heaven hues fade. Feel the wind on your face. Terror fades fast and back into
The Realms of Muted Light.

Sacrifice wanes into starry night as telescope history written in strange atmospheres.
Not this. You walk for days to the same mountain pass and climb the hill for the rocks of rule.
Only to be set back down again by a force of unending Truth. At the base you may walk to a
Town in the shadow of another town, in the shadow of another town, no violence to disclose
For there is no raider on well-meaning raids to sack and loot the muted day. People move as Blurred outlines, unhurried, towards a storied build, a house built on a noble hill, a temple there
That once was ill with the fever of four thousand years.

Lay your fleece down in the garden, dear, and when it’s dried by morning sun come with Us to the Temple Mount and raise up your banners high, for women are judging and men are fumbling the spear in a wartime game. No winners in story or scroll tonight, dear friend, just chaos and a story taught. With no end in sight we take to sky and further into the world of muted light.

Here in the stars we see the scarred heavens in Orion’s belt
Feel the cold movements of airless void and strange murmurings
Towards the sympathetic of a thousand years

See stars mark the seasons, the days, the years, but away into the world of muted light...