Imagination to Change

  

Imagination to Change

   High up we take to our imagination, for the world around us is poor. Broken, an apocalyptic spectacle that teeters on the unforgivable. Hundreds of abandoned buildings stand with dark and dreary faces. Broken windows form with jagged edges. Doors hang like  loose nails upon fingers and the walls slowly cave to the unwavering season of winter.

  Empty lots of concrete split by the hand of nature. Weeds sprout like appendages reaching desperately for air. Once covered in the crust of  heavy darkness they now breach with a chance of breath.

  But how foreign they appear to us, to me and my brother. We have been here our entire lives, in this, dark phantasmal place. This cryptic realm of what we are told is reality. But something we have always felt lingers in our heads, this thought of a better place. 

  A place where people smile as you pass by. A place where the efforts of man are not stricken with disaster. A place where children live in homes that are not strung with disarray. A place no longer captive of worry for the next meal. 

A place where bellies are filled at the whim of choice. Where winter is not a season to fear, but to enjoy. A place where children, parents, family and friends do not fear the night. Do not fear the constant possibility of death by the hands of their own. 

 Our bellies often ache through the day, but it has become the natural order of things. We are only two years apart, me and my brother. So we suffer along side each other with equal feeling. We neither go without conversation or the comfort of each other.

  We are often alone in the desolate place as both our parents work two jobs. We are a humble family, though we be as broke as the next wondering soul of these streets. We pride ourselves in our hard work, our desire as a family to free ourselves of this suffering. 

  See, even our parents believe there is more to this reality than the dismal abandonment of structure, physical and spiritual. For too long has our family been trapped in the repetition of generations. The repetitive chaos of mediocrity. 

  And so our family has taken up the burden to live. To be the golden ropes that lasso the moon and pull it in. To bend the gravity of our past and toss it to the ocean of stars. And through such ambition, we, my brother and me.

 Have built a legacy of imagination. We have strung wondrous thoughts inside our minds, our heads. We have created a world that shall be ours. Not only in thought, but in reality. For we have watched even our parents transform us from the poorest, walking bare foot from shelter to shelter. 

 To having shoes upon our feet. We are no slouches to the empty echoes of the old. But were are bold and imaginative architects of change. And so now we ride our hearts as if they are bulls. And we shall ride them till we can hold on no more. 

 And even then, we shall ride again.

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What has your imagination done for you?

We are but the choices we make in the moment, not the choices we made, A Man's Traveled Heart

Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words.

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