Day dreaming, thinking, his head in the clouds,
The man has visions very vivid and loud
He wanders around in the depths of his mind
Refraining from thoughts of all the real world.
Here in his head he controls his own path,
Here he is king on a large plot of land,
But he cannot stay here in his imaginary land,
He has to return from his dream in the clouds
He has to return to the long beaten path.
Suddenly a thud comes sounding quite loud,
Bringing him back to the dreary real world
“My book must’ve fallen,” he’s deduced in his mind,
He hopes no one in the library will mind
He looks toward the only place the book could possibly land
On the floor lays his copy of Brave New World,
Picked up and blown on it creates small clouds
Of dust, the librarian soon comes saying not to be loud,
Then she is off, walking the path.
To her desk, in her wake shoeprints leave a small path.
Now his work should be back on his mind,
But his drifting thoughts seem to yell loud
In his brain to go back to his land,
His kingdom without refrain, his place in the clouds
Where he can escape to an imaginary world,
Here he could stay, cut off from the world
He could create and imagine following his own path,
He could look in the sky at the vast different clouds
This is where he could linger in the recess of his mind
Making and changing his own enormous land
Creating his own friends, whether quiet or loud,
But he can’t stay here and simply be loud
In his head, he must bring his thoughts to the world,
He must make them be known, he must bring his land
To the public for others to roam. A path
They can follow to the depths of their mind
Where they too can leave their heads in the clouds
So they too can make their land into a beautiful path
A large and loud cycle bringing others to the depth of their mind
So all in the world can create from their dreams in the clouds.
Just some more poetry…
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Schizoaffect92 