Limits of the Imagination
By John Herlihy

Let us consider for a moment the powers of imagination.
Where does it establish its residence In all of the creation?
We know that it lives and thrives in the corridors of the mind,
But its powers of wonder uncover treasures of another kind.

When imagination opens its door, we see variations of light;
Its hinges are soundless, but its silence do histories write.
The imagination goes where no one has ever gone before,
Probing through universal darkness to witness stars galore.

What do those stars tell us beyond anything we have known,
Mysteries beyond anything our imagination knows on its own.
The stars lend themselves to infinities laid down at our feet;
The swirling galaxies form a procession we imagine and greet.

We sit alone, but thru imagination we over mountains soar;
We lift the veil of physicality the supreme mystery to adore.
Bury us forever from the light of day into the deepest cave;
Our imagination will lead us by the hand to make us brave.

What would we be without our imagination setting us free,
Unveiling harlequin worlds we would otherwise never see.
How could we be truly ourselves, have our hearts to hold?
How could we live out the narratives that our life has told?

No doubt, we encounter precipitous cliffs during our lives;
We journey far in search for what the imagination strives.
Imagination gives us wings so we may soar as the bird;
Symphonic music accompanies us otherwise never heard.

We need only close our eyes to picture the perfect world,
Just imagine and what do you have but banners unfurled.
Small wonder then that the spark of imagination burns,
Smoldering down to red-hot embers as our heart yearns.

Imagination our silver chalice, in pursuit of the Holy Grail,
Only the imagination itself can fill the wind into our sail.
We drink its vast storehouse of wonder with tender sips;
Its voice whispers mysteries through our trembling lips.

Ah, but my imagination saves me from the savage horde,
To set me free from their fearsome cries, I have implored.
My imagination sets me on fire, drives me forward, content;
In its wake, my dreams take up residence, from Heaven sent.