gnomes and villages and trees and the like

the mystical never did much more
than fascinate me.

what, when I would wake up and walk
with the swiftness of the air
the speed at which beautiful paces
can be made down the
creative path
is fairly brisk.

safety, then, in that eternal
community that lives on
in a little gnome village inside
of my head.

let’s cut the bullshit
and pretend for a moment
that childish behaviour isn’t more
than a refusal from
modern adult considerations
of how to rebel.

that said,
in the trees, and the moss,
the ferns and the undergrowth,
the leaves buried a place
where the fantastic brought about
more than fantasy.

safety is in knowing we’re people too.
and sometimes,
even those of us who feel on the edge
know we’re people too
by knowing more about the world
than even our brilliant calculating minds
care to imagine.

for our own security,
and for that of others,
it’d probably be a good idea
to indulge a little more in the characteristically
psychotic
and less in the grease-covered nachos
and believe, once in a while,
that figuring it all out
isn’t what makes us great.
it’s knowing that
somewhere,
secretly,
the gnomes and elves are plotting to make us
happy
and that knowing exactly how or why
isn’t the answer,
it’s that we know we’re not alone
in a world often hidden under the bushes.