Our Imaginary Worlds Poem by Bullion Grey

Was there an architect that before went on,
to design our collection of imaginary worlds?
Or we are part of each we feel or see,
not intruders to this mystical gathering of experiences?
Does Atlantis still exist in our souls?
Is Narnia a place in our hearts?
Wonderland a mental expression of what we know for sure?
Are the famous roads of the Isles of Odea a dangerous place?
Is Frankenstein's monster still staggeing around?
Could it be we live in the Dream of Dreams?
Are we the architects of our own place in these worlds?
Maybe these wonders are not so distant as we like to think?
Just maybe we are what we create or link?