Imagination is collective dust

Made known with weavings

Through a tapestry of thoughts

With a paintbrush

With a pen

With a mind

With a stroke of courage inked.

Imagination is a barefoot run

On the endless grasslands in Mongolia

Holding hands with the one

As our laughter

Receives a reply from nature

Whispering a wild welcome

Through the puff that separates us.

Imagination is not an escape

From what we call

The fundamentally questionable


Imagination is perfection

A utopia that provides hope

That kindness elevates

That stars don’t diminish

That art has an audience

That we still feel something.

<a href=””>Imagination</a&gt;

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