The Imagination Poem by Raymond Farrell

Peculiar thing the imagination
Functioning through endless fabrication
Based on sentimental unreal extrapolation.
Does it really have any place?
Or is it just some vacant space
Some misfit undefined by time or place?
Through it we live our dream
Tread where mortals haven't been
Feud and hope and scheme.
The weakest becomes most strong
And takes to righting every wrong
At last he feels he can belong.
The poor at last have wealth galore
Perched on some far exotic shore
They live in leisure forevermore.
Life is viewed differently with each escape
A time to fully extricate
A time for venting love and hate.
But, the reality is ever there
Though in your imagination you've been everywhere
Reality is harsh and doesn't care.
Back to reality for good or ill
Match the facts against your will
Strive, your dream you may fulfill.