Without imagination there is nothing but protocol. A direct line of orders and scheduled events. No wonders to behold, nothing amazing to unfold, nothing marvelous to hold on to for the sake of its enlightenment. Without imagination the world becomes the weakness of the universe, the damsels of all distress, without a brave soul to save it from all it's calamities. Heroes are destroyed not made, prayers are lies on the tongues of love, men are desolate helpless shadows no longer allowed their crown of creation. And while we all want and need to believe that the gift of life is the greatest miracle of all we are repeatedly told that it's nothing more than a bargaining chip on a casino table where billionaires jockey for their next pawn to be played.

Without imagination the world has no meaning. Stories are worded oppressions. Minds are closed to varieties. Flavors are wasted on the litmus paper of tree barks and flowers never bloom in color. We are left with the black and white the benign grays in the empty arms of plastic contraptions without the ability to feel human emotions. Contemptuous of needs and wants envious of our lives as we live them and wasteful of our time to be alive.

Without imagination there is no such friend as love. No one to comfort our worries. No one to sooth our hurts from emotions we carry inside us hidden from the world of judgmental eyes who search for our weaknesses to exploit for their gains. Without imagination we're left only with the aches of our human condition. The fledglings of unacceptance in a world to which we are born. Not by choice but through conditions into circumstances regardless of purpose and destinations. Where as imagination becomes the light of our hope, the instigation of our dreams, the strength we must muster to began our first steps into living through harshness, believing for better days, considering new ways, casting off dismays that would otherwise abandon us in desolate islands of thoughtlessness.

Without imagination our souls are left to starve in a colorless world where there are no tomorrows because they were abandoned in yesterdays. Our steps become burdens removing our wings to take flight into the endless possibilities that our hearts so desire if we forget to partake of it's blessings and receive with thanksgiving the elixir of living that is imagination. It is a fountain of youth to the would be's of living, it is the heaven always opened to those where it's given, it is the sanctity of life beginning to end, imagining the places where our lives could begin. To find friendships in the most unlikely places, to see the world through different times of far away places, to hear all the voices from leaf, limb and tree, sky, cloud, moon, stars, stem, flower, honey bees. It is a world full of color unfettered by lines where blues, yellow, orange and greens all meet, blend, combine in eyes, hair and visions from the heavens all around waiting for us to explore them for things we've never found. For the scents, for the flavors, for their offerings of life, for the cloud tops, for the sceneries that stretches over miles of mountains snowy peak tops and river waters clear reflecting images from everything there. So I forever pray for a world with imagination.

Where candles are invented to spare us from fear and lanterns are filled with oil to bring the dark a brighter cheer and fires are built to warm us all from the cold and stoves of all sorts, warming foods are a rare gold. Where shadows are nothing more than hand puppets on a wall where someone older, wiser, can make birds appear to enthrall, a younger mind full of wonder reaching out to life to live with an eager imagination looking for it's own offering to give. In some small way on any given day a portion of what it's received, a tithe if you will, to the many places where an imagination gave them strength to believe. In everyday miracles like an early rising sun in an eastern colored sky of pastels, in winds that can carry balloons bigger than houses over mountains and valleys of hills. Where life is for living as free as the birds that fly from the north to the south and songs are celebrations of wonderful moments that danced in our lives through our mouths and laughter, remember that, the pleasure of breathing that exercised our stresses away and gave us the courage to belittle the worries that kept us apart from the days, where mirth was well worth the time where it bloomed and relieved all our lives with a giggle. Instead of being forced to plod a hideous course where we lost our own voice to a machine. Without imagination we would all still be in the dark, bound to thoughtless emotions without the understanding of fulfillment. Unable to comprehend the depths of our own importance while we're alive on the earth surrounded by a history of people who have gave us the ability to receive, the capability to believe and the audacity to reign in the concepts of imagination.