Imagination is confined
behind the bars of dogma’s ire
seeking freedom to run free
playing with the celebrants

fantastic dreams are stillborn
when they live in empty halls
supplicants ask their boon
from the Lords that hold the keys

many cried for relief’s balm
as the doors were barred within
curtains pulled to withhold
lurid light from those below

dreams are sought beyond the walls
empty promises without hope
when the muse is contained
encouragement is hard to find

these bulwarks defy the strong
artists starving for impulse
to achieve something more
than simple minds may suppose

in the end the ramparts stand
between the craftsman now denied
what they seek to conceive
no longer serving fantasies.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180609.