Have you ever yet seen the stars glow at night in your childhood bedroom sky?

Does it still, some thirty years later.

What stars shine bright, what constellations – imagined in your youth – can you see still, lying there.

Here Adonis the Lion, there the giant robot. Gordon the frigid Lord of the North, by the door. It faced East, where Gordon had been exiled for his forbidden love of the Sun.

These things I know, for I made them so. In childhood might and certitude.

Shaken now, on rocky grounds I build crumbling castles of faulty logic and wishy assumptions. Easily pulled down around the ears of those so loathed.

Gather brightly the shards of youth and build castles of cards now, lasting eons of forever. Even ‘gainst staunch breezes blown and stomping feet thrown. Glee, delight.

Not the modern assumption of fragility, instead POWER that I have granted me against so called reality – I reject it! And solid make my own.

I cry.

I cry and remember a time I ruled the earth, neath my bedroom sky.

Have you ever yet seen the duck in the bed, his beak chipped and notched, telling stories to the deer and pig, turned round upside down.

The swirl of the wall giving rise to maus fren and bear rising in the grain.

Captured in the forests once cut down, frozen in effigy for only your eyes to see. And remember.

The cat in the moon, some say rabbit but they live elsewhere, seen through the window’s pain. Cold, frost light filters through. Kissing feet cold lacking sense, gone many years.

Oh the stories seen in the littlest things, lament your lacking now. In fallow imagination blooms renew hope and new possibilities arise if you but listen.

And trust.

Trust yourself to the flow of nonsensical word feeling guiding on along a ribbon of song sung in the head of those here and now. Play the words in their head aloud and allowed.

You’re allowed.

Allowed to mine your thoughts sentient and salient. Pertinent to the process of real-making the things happening in our heads. It’s okay.

Have you ever yet seen?