They say it's good for me
To stick to my trade.
But I feel as if it gets me out
Of my corporal life; as if it says,
'Get out of here! Enter the realm
Of your impetuous fantasy,
Fly away with your fast spirit;
Stay there as long as you can,
Keeping away from all mundane.
This is the only way to be tops
In your field, Master.' Instead,
I tend to knock about the world --
There isn't a whole spot
On my unrestrained fantasies --
Even my valued trade
Is out of touch with them.
I don't know what your "dear trade" is, but I sure know that it's all right to have unrestrained fantasies as long as you don't indulge in them in real life if they are dangerous or embarrassing.
I think you speak of the beauty of being a poet who can set himself loose in the "realm of . . . impetuous fantasy" and "fly away". That is exactly how I sometimes feel when writing a poem, especially when it is finished. Later I go back to "knocking about the world", as you say. Today's poem struck a cord.
The hoar witch and her forest full of malformed creatures await Vanx and his curious group of companions as they try to save the fairy folk and their magical Heart Tree from the powerful old crone and her evil.
The Didaniyisgi is the second book in the fifteen book series, The Adventures of Lord Belmundus, a remarkable tale of others worlds, strange customs, beauty and warfare; and, in its grips, lands a young celebrity, who has the chaps to play the many p
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Ron