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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It Must Begin With And who knows for certain when reality fades into fantasy, What starts the sylvan sliding, something so beautiful that, You question the state of being real in this universe, Everything becomes more radiant, bolder, more perfect than the dream, Or on the dark side, things are indescribably grotesque. The chilling evil, the claws with terrifying wings that beat, Over your dreams to haunt you like demons from the abyss, Nature itself is fantasy, its flowers that take your breath away, The stars, the shells, the magnificent trees and yet it also has, The ugliest lizards, snakes, spiders and insects to terrorize. Because we need fantasy to understand our true self, To navigate through the labyrinth of our fragmented consciousness, Where the beautiful and the hideous dance in perfect symbiosis, Creating the kaleidoscope of our existence in psychedelic colors, And reality becomes just an illusion in the theater of our mind. The sylvan sliding carries us through the forests of the subconscious, Where each leaf is a memory crystallized in time, And each shadow hides secrets we dare not name, The fantastic becomes the refuge where the soul finds its peace, While reality remains a prisoner in the cage of logic. It must begin with the acceptance that everything is dream within dream, That beauty and horror are twin sisters in the cosmic dance, Nature offers us the mirror in which we see ourselves dual and whole, And only through fantasy can we touch the purest essence, Of what we truly are in this ephemeral existence.
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