Oh Imagination, where are you?
The butterflies have flown.
I search the moon-lit sky for gods
But still I am alone.
Where are the streets all lain with gold
And many headed hounds,
Pixies, dwarfs and Fairy Queens,
Good Kings with golden crowns?
I search my mind, my brains on leave,
My senses don’t exist.
No longer there creative thoughts
And wondrous memories mixed.
No bows of burning gold,
No chariots of fire.
Not a single glowing light,
Nothing does inspire.
If I could only walk the fields
And see the flowers dance.
The birds a singing in the trees
Might trigger off a trance.
But still the vessels hollow sound
Rings out when it is tapped.
The bird has flown; cage is empty,
Tiny wings have flapped.
If I into myself withdraw
To transcend a destination.
I find that there is no one there
My thoughts are on vacation.