Lowly lit was his delicate smile whilst she shone beyond the screen
A love he declared for no one else
Was all a fantasy
She danced, focused, circled near
He was vacant, running, retracting in fear
She hastened, calling, pining for him
He shied away, hiding, ever dampening
He preferred the idea that was in his head, fantasy instead of reality as the dancer remained mislead
She never stopped dancing towards him, his place called home
Not realising that she was destined to remain completely alone.
i wrote this about 15 years ago [check out the difference in style :D] after coming across the work of Robert Firestone, who distinctly outlines a huge problem in society which is, by my own viewing, largely overlooked. reading firestone's work on fantasy bonding gave me instant recognition of it's presence within an old co-workers shared pain. fantasy is nice, we get to play, we get to create, and it is a momentary escape. the problem however, is when reality then gets denied. impossible enforcing of fantasy to be real when there is no chance, with the darker corners isolating a person from leading a full life with actual face to face, skin on skin, in person relationships with others. in this age of screens and isolation, we are more at risk than we ever have been.