I Fabricate.

When life gets too much like
a wet blanket
I wake up
with excitement one day and
squeeze it all out.
I take a dull sky from my sight
and go fly
my own kite, then for relief I
become the
free romancer and proceed to
idealize.
Often I take a
a long trip to moon's edge with
someone I fancy,
and throwing care to the wind
I begin singing.
Life's cocoon with its cheerless
wool-gathering
can flatten most dreaming if it
is allowed.
So I go out on a spree to stir up
mythical whim
or make a wish for some inner
heart-music
to start my surprise mood-flight
into fantasy
which if got right should always
reveal life's
hidden stairway toward paradise.
I fabricate
dreams that might go unheeded
otherwise.
Utopia's myth at times becomes
too underrated,
I intend never to give up being
romantic for
clandestine ecstasy tastes much
better when
taken as wine from chimera's cup.