Enthralled by freedom; Enchanted by
Ourselves.  Beauty was its condiment to
Lionize all of which we were co-creators
Of  and thereby honor the majesty of play.
A wondrous thing layer upon layer
We wove an artificial world into a
Masterpiece fit for kings-it was so
Much greater than the world we
Knew, filled with inspiration, and
Rich in complexity, superbly colored.
It commanded stay here!  Live here!
It can be yours forever.  But it was
Not to be.  The afternoon grew late.
The dusk of evening covered us in
Shadows.  My friend or  was it I
Said: One more act then it is all
Complete and we never need leave.
Was it I or he that said no it all must
End-Mother and Father wait and
The table is set and our play is over.
The common place always brings
Us back and we remember our duty  
Is not to the enchanted land.  Did I
Or you stay on alone I do not know.
It is but a play and as the Bard has
Said Signifies nothing the characters
Like us return to dust with all their
Pomp and glory but still we  yearn to
Play again like Twain to dream a better
Dreams; for the plays the thing...and
Though  it must end still we hear its call
For Eternal youth is its long sought goal.
Indeed it is our duty to be born again.


For Mom & Dad