Just as a marker pointing the way out of the bay, a telescope focusing on the future, my own logical mind is led astray to repropse all of my dreams; my fantasies. A reality that my own mind can never escape from when I seize the moment as my own. A creation, or, an obsession? Is this why, when I see the sun setting over the water, I picture myself in a pool of tears? Like swarms of bees making masses of amounts of honey, is my rejection towards reality? My family, my friends. Even as I love them so, must I recreate them in my image? I can never know the endless amounts of life in this tiny puddle, that I could never create. As vast as the oceans tides pulling out of the shore, my imagination flourishes. Never truly alone and never truly accepted, the double life I live, between my mind and reality. Inside of me I am one within the fantasies of strangers versions of me. Strong as smooth rock, portraying its inner glory in solidified poses, we are all the same, yet we are different. Like fish in a sea, river, pond, or ocean. Like gravel in potters clay, we lead the way to better and new life. 

    Before turning away, I catch a glimpse of the sun's last rays, emotions intermixed in a form of one single breath, a wink of the eye, or a twitch of the hand. What I feel is mine alone, whether it be my fantasy or my reality.

(this is a special piece i wrote for the Art of Writing event held in Milwaukee)