Where will my imagination take me?
It will never be as vast as the sky,
As voluminous as the fruit of one tree.
It will never set me soaring
In the way of the clouds
That are ever shifting,
Always finding new formations
Without any need to express at all.
Can my imagination expand
The way a bud unfurls to flower,
Holding nothing back
Despite the transient nature
Of her existence
Between coming and going?
Can it rest as sweetly
As a bird landing on a branch,
Knowing it won’t stay long,
Not finding any sadness in this?
Imagination is a winged bird
When the path is not obstructed,
When nothing stops the intuition
From honing in on home.
Imagination does not desire,
And so it is limitless.