It is rumoured that all objects Living in you and out have an Intrinsic imagination. This is talked of in fairy tales. Think of your forebears who escaped Sorcery with the ancient art of Projecting identity; they could Settle their endangered soul in A tree, threat free, to return again When calm times favoured connection.
Could you now proceed by walking Buoyantly into poetry, Where your body cells commune with Matter’s unspoken narratives? Could you remove tumours using This ancient intelligence? Trust objects, call them your allies, Teach them to listen and fight for you. Inspire healthy cells to pester And break-up your foreign bodies.
To make your body a safe haven, Forget sympathy, breed great love. Take all the sunlight you’ve fed on High above the clouds, load it in your Heart’s light-projecting ray gun and Shower the tumours whenever You have the energy - always Imagining their surprise and Magical dissolution, like Wet snails melting into thin air.