There are those who live in the world as it is, in the world as they find it, and there are those who live in the world as they would wish it to be. Often, those who live in the world of the mind do so not by choice but by circumstance.

There are those who live in castles
There are those who live in hovels
There are those who live in daydreams
There are those who live in novels
As for me my life is centered
On the outskirts of my vision
Where a world of light and beauty
Comes to life with sharp precision
Where each varied leaf fair glistens
In the sunlight as the rains pass
And the ear of God still listens
To the swishing sound of plains grass
As the breeze ruffles the green tops
Showing undersides of gleaming
Molten silver in the ceaseless
Motion of my endless dreaming