Chapter 4:

(Poem) Imagine It

Stray Stories and Purposeless Poetry


Imagination is an unending disarray.
If this could be pictured, it would be
a ring—a never-ending loop
that has no beginning
or end. Then add some spikes and swirls
and sparkling, briolette cut gems the color of twilight.
Now the ring is endless and
eccentric. No, different from the rest.

Imagination is unimaginable.
A ring in the shape of a rectangular octagon
curved at the edges and jagged inside. The surface is squishy, covered
by mold. It sounds like sirens in the dead of night.
And even the mind
can’t comprehend what all this is.

Now what if this ring was alive?
What if it breathed in
and out?
What if it could spew fire? Greek
fire. Never able to be put out. What if
it was as large as the Himalayas?

Imagination is your very own creation.
An embodiment of your expression, vision,
your deepest inspirations. Imagination—whether it be fire, wet,
sharp, or even a ring—is always something
nobody else can ever duplicate or
recreate. 

L.A.Sirius
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