Prickmedainty Poetry

(Re)scapism

So they say:

Fantasy is an empty

Reality,

And with their rigid

Connect the dot

Mentality

They scoff it down

To proper dimensions—

Mere escapism.

So they say.

I say:

So what!

If I can leave

This minuscule bounded spot

Of time, place, and mind—

Come back stronger

For my flight with dragons

And phoenix and fairy tale,

Then let me dream!

Let me revel

In that splendorous substance

Called make-believe.

Then, I may return again—

Rescape my world

Into proper dimensions

Where, in truth, all dots are stars,

And connect as constellations

That beat back the darkness

With light as tingle-hot

As any sun shaft.

*I wrote this years ago as the manifesto of an amateur epeolatrist!