The Third Dimension - NaPoWriMo Day #5 - a poem about pulling your dreams into reality

The layers upon layers of rain-soaked pages
stick to each other and to the eras and ages,
keeping me glued to the concepts I conceived
when there was still time and space to dream.

I remember white skies and rippling puddles,
singing girls and sturdy homes made of brick.
Solidity, safety, suburban splendor,
but anywhere I might roam, I was home.

The canvas was blank,
inviting portraits of independence
in wild rainbow-hued watercolor.
I painted every moment
from breakfast to bedtime.
I painted in my sleep,
painted with my mind.

Pictures are lovely but actions are divine.

I should have pulled the imagery
kicking and screaming into the third dimension.
I should have given birth to the lunacy
and let the sorcery dance in the streets.

No audience? No matter.
An empty venue is preferred
to a full madhouse.

Beauty is born in the eye of the storm,
in the clarity and peace that the chaos forever seeks.
The muse's waters still cover me,
clear and still and deep.

Photo by: Christopher Campbell