The Demise Of Imagination

My life is an unmarked grave
ignored by passersby traveling
under the spell of free will
who toil amidst grand illusions
resting over the hills of beyond
where rationale can never appear.

Condemned to appear
in an existence that is grave,
I envision a world beyond
dreams and reality, traveling
an ethereal plane, creating illusions
and fantasies at will.

I write snippets of a living will,
hoping this world may appear,
for a life lived without illusions
can lead to an early grave,
so my imagination traveling
forever seeks a land beyond.

Oh, to be far and beyond
this life that tramples the will;
becoming a grain of sand traveling
on winds whenever they appear,
unafraid of consequences grave,
accompanied by seraphim and illusions.

Using words to paint illusions,
my dreams seem less beyond,
but the call of the grave
can break even the strongest will,
as doubt and fear appear,
courage goes traveling.

Imagination ceases traveling,
stranding daydreams and illusions,
forcing logic to appear,
halting my search for beyond,
etching the dying part of my will
with an epitaph solemn and grave;

traveling beyond
illusions will
appear to be direly grave.