There's a magic to fireworks,
But it's dulled through a windowpane and an empty bedroom.
There's a wonder while holding a sparkler in hand,
But it's less significant when standing alone.
Alone.
It's a scary word, a scary feeling.
The hidden magic in reality dissipates when there is lonliness.
But a new magic can be found elsewhere.
Imagination.
The mind.
An escape from reality.
Any fantasy can become real,
Any deepest desires exist and thrive.
But it's not reality.
It's a plane that may be an escape,
But it's only temporary.
No matter how hard the wish, the imagination can't come to life.
Is it wrong?
Wrong to hide in a place of lies,
A place of pretend.
Maybe it holds magic.
Maybe it brings smiles and happiness.
But for how long?
While the escape was made,
The story ends eventually,
And it stops.
Stops right where it started.
Nothing has changed,
Only time has been wasted.
And I find myself stuck back in reality
July 4, 2020
YOU ARE READING
S t a r g a z i n g
PoetryMaybe this is poetry, maybe it's not. Partial poetry may be a good term, or maybe just elegant rambles. I don't know. But I do know that I love the stars, because they hold secrets beyond one's imagination. I don't know if anyone will truly enjoy a...
