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Ode To Fantasy

I had invited it, and for 6 months allowed it to set up camp.                                                                                                                        
And like a sudden storm, it had come with a punch and lingered.
Like a frog relaxing in the kettle, I did not see it coming until
It bit my finger like a thorn and stung my hand like a bee.

It said repeatedly that its name was Fantasy.
With a smile I said, "My name is Reality".
I knew it belonged to the wild and was never meant for me.
Still, for 6 months, I cherished and nursed it like a pet.
I was at the crossroads and living in denial, I guess.
I felt no harm, because it quickly started to calm.

Like a soothing cool breeze, it began to whisper.
Like a sweet dream, life was feeling like a soft song.
But for 6 months, I lived dangerously, ignoring the warnings.
And I fail to read the road sign saying, 'Nightmares just ahead'.

Too blind to see; too deft to hear; I had no fear.
For 6 months, it fevered and festered.
And like a leach, it clung to me forbiddingly.
I was foolish and painted in folly and fantasy.
But for 6 months, I welcomed and bade it to stay.

It had muscles of might, but we knew it had no right.
It seemed to feed upon itself and me both day and night.
But after 6 months, it quickly lifted and faded like a vaper.
The baby departs. The boy loves to cling. The man must go forward.
Fantasy departed willingly, and I faced Reality before becoming a casualty.


Copyright © curtis johnson