The Jig is Up
It is hard to Imagine.
A different life. Not tweaked,
but wildly different,
a different place, a different work,
a different art, or art at all,
a different love, a life
you once imagined and surrendered
as impractical, impossible,
or at the least, improbable.
Too many pieces to move,
the world settled. You settled.
If not exactly happy, at least
not miserable. Tolerable. Enough.
Only, and we all know this,
it isn’t. Not really.
It nibbles at you, this new life.
Nags like a three year old.
So, just for fun. Imagine.
Go ahead. It won’t hurt.
Imagine that life. That love. That art.
Imagine a day different. Your nights, different.
Be as wild as you can imagine. Push the limits.
Think it. Every day think it.
Every day. (Did I say that already? Well, good.)
Play make believe
with all the abandon of that three year old.
Let the God of love hear your prayer,
the prayer imagination creates,
whether it means to or not.
Dream it. Think it. Shut your eyes and feel it.
Change a thing.
One is enough to start.
One is enough for the God of dreams
to hear, to see you are willing,
willing, even if you are not ready,
for dreams to come true.
Wear a hat. Draw. Sing bad opera.
Cuddle to your loved one.
Who cares if they are surprised?
You likely are too. One thing.
God is listening. Actions speak louder than words.
Go ahead. Have courage. Just a smidge.
Try it. and wait.
Wait and look and listen.
One change brings another.
Newton’s law. God’s law.
None of us are as isolated as we think.
Wait for it.
One small thing that matches
And now you know.
The jig is up.
The world is yours.
One small step at a time.
Dreams are real.
About this poem.
Inspired by the picture. I take pictures in museums, starting with the name of whatever exhibit I am visiting, so I can remember. This title has always sung to me.
The new year is coming. A good time to imagine, and do.