A deepening fog covering my eyes
Forces a dreadful dullness on my mind.
Is this what I’m forever doomed to be?
A creature fatigued by my existence;
A mere animal frightened of others?

Why do I blame my lack of clarity
On the peers that crowd and bustle ‘round me?
Aren’t I the debris choking the river?
The dead leaves and thick mud clogging the stream
That once flowed cleanly, beautiful and clear?
Am I stagnant amidst this busy world?

A hard, cold stone statue of marbled grey
Doomed to watch as the world frolics and plays?
Or am I moving too quickly to see?
Flying fast and seeing the world whip by,
Never able to stop and see the now?

Time is slipping by – too fast, and too slow.
I read, read to escape reality.
That is the way to survive – breathe and live
Those stories, those worlds. This world is boring.

So I read, uncaring of how quickly,
Or how slowly, this world passes me by.
But when I look up, I have to wonder:
Where is the world of fantasy I seek?
The coming of the foretold prophecies?

And above all, where is the adventure?
Perhaps to fade slowly out of this world,
Is to appear in worlds of fantasy,
Realms of nonsense where all of these people
And their projected false reality
Are not allowed, because they can’t see it.

But perhaps, for a few, it can be sensed
Just beyond reach – that world of fantasy.
It waits for eyes to open, waits for all
To wake up and dream.