could you imagine what it’s like to not imagine?
to feel a feeling, before it ever happened?
to tell a breeze from a beast, waiting in the cabin?
to conclusively deny the myth of the dragon?
could you ever really know the false from the true –
having lived so little in a world so new?
could you live with love, when all you have is you?
could you assure the blind that the sky is blue?
could you split the atom, and fill the void –
with a hate so violent you were meant to avoid?
could you find your peace, amidst a frenzy on steroids?
could you smother the fire with which you toyed?
could there ever be a time you’d know for sure –
if you should let go, or endure… a bit more?
could you think for yourself, with thoughts obscure?
would you dare to tell your child - ‘you’d better mature’?