Surrounding the perimeter of my imagination are circling lines, always repeating. The canvas of beautiful experiences, brush stroked with vibrant colors. With an enormous amalgamation of intimacy, woven together. The imagination defend itself, When traveling throughout. Artistically coloring aspects of doubt. It moves about. Slowly methodically. With grace and flair. Imagination opens foggy weather with care. Unleashing buckets of pouring rain. Within valleys, over again on the western plains. The imagination is circling, trying to fit inside a rectangular box. Like a geometric calculation, but it's really not. Attuned to the bloody puddle dripping from the moon. It's horrible news. When the imagination crows like a rooster before daylight breaks. Forevermore, the imagination will be contained near a fireplace where embers are known to fly. Remembering the crush it has yesterday creeping by. The imagination is written oddly, some would say. For my defense, I am excited when words play with the imagination in a sandbox. Building castles whenever the mood drifts, circulating. Surrounding.
© Daniel Mason