2012-07-02

So it's true
Once you strip away
The blinders from your childhood
The magick is lost
Or perhaps transformed
Your old playground
Has become some other child's
Astral temple
Your power needs to come from another place
A source deep inside
Your imagination
Must be freed from the burden of Nostalgia
The most beautiful place in the world
Still is
But
There is nothing of myself left here
I'm not sure why I thought there would be
As if I would return and find
An eight year old
Version of myself
Running across bridges
That no longer exist
Picking invisible strawberries
From thin Air
What once were redwoods
Are now cedars
Half of those even gone
Turned into a bridge or a barn somewhere
Cleared to make way for
Another man's dream
And why not?
This is their place now

~M

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