One night I was with a friend,
Visiting and spending time.
I took a sip of water,
And set the glass on the table nearby
Without looking.

When I turned to the glass
To take another sip,
I noticed the glass was only
Halfway
On the Table.

If the table is bumped,
If I don't grasp the glass
Just right
It could fall.
I looked at it,
Almost afraid to
Touch it.
It was an accident
Waiting
To happen.

I looked closer to the water in the glass
And saw my reflection
And realized
That I was the glass,
Just waiting to spilled,
On the edge,
Just waiting
For someone to shake my table
And let me fall
To shatter on the ground
With water all around.

Good children, do not build castles in the sky.
At first they may seem lovely and magical--
Because they are--
But!

All castles have dungeons,
And the dungeons
Are where you keep your
Fears and
Worries and
Inner demons.

While you are frolicking
Inside your castle walls,
In a world constructed entirely
Out of your imagination,
The things you imagine but
Pretend to forget
Will creep out of their
Darkness in the dungeons
And turn your magical kingdom
Into a frightful prison
Of the Mind.

Instead, good children,
Build your
Palaces in
Poetry--

Dance with the rhythms,
Sing with the rhymes,
Build your imaginary world
With words and stanzas

Because these palaces
Really exist--
You don't have to pretend!

Just run away and hide in your
Palace of Poetry,
And paint the walls with
Your stories,
And trap your
Worries and
Fears
In a corner,
And fight them with your
(S)words.

Leave when
Reality commands you to,
But come back when you can.

Lock the door each time you enter,
Put the key in your pocket,
And write yourself away.