Not really to take me away,
But to show me through its eyes,
What lie in store behind all of the cries,
Into the mind's eye to see,
To feel what cannot be free.
Sometimes I have lied awake wondering,
To sleep is to shut down that very engine
That allows us to experience the impossible.
Wandering through woods and between trees
Wandering through the city and around people,
Place becomes unimportant, sight blind, hearing deaf.
We can feel the touch of any story, moment, or everlasting desire,
And close our mind to the explicable, tangible, to feel the imaginable.
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