Word Travelers
by Odin Roark

Is it illusion
that brings us peace and unbridled calm,
that images a sweet scent of veracity found,
that wanders through the rivulets of past memories,
lifting sadness from the fog of fear
to the desire of hope?

Is it artifice
that brings the pleasure of fulfillment,
sans material trappings,
allowing feeling,
pride,
compassion for the reader’s struggle,
to enable dreams to be realized?

Is it fantasy
to sense,
to desire,
to be the eyes of word-travelers,
enjoining that expedition to somewhere,
that place the pen first became the guide for many authors,
where flowing lexicons opened out to sea,
becoming everyone’s ocean to share?

They only had to read.

If it be hallucination,
how does life present so real
one’s influential imaginings?

Is authored reality be so pretentious,
why does life create so valid
one person’s imaginings to another?

Such is the worded journey.

A special oneness to be discovered.