Transformative Imagination

Transformative Imagination
By Michael McManus

Once, a man, a soul with a lackluster hue,
His very presence casting a somber shade on others.
Not merely tedious himself, but infecting others with his contagion,
Transmitting his symptoms in a web of mundanity and distemperature.

His speech monotonous, tales void of fervour,
Every word a lullaby, invoking heavy sighs and sleep.
His once lively companions, brimming with vigour, gradually mirrored him,
Their narratives and themselves, growing dull, stale and heavy.

His dullness not only confined to himself, unmistakably,
Extinguished the radiance of those he loved and cherished.
In his company, vibrant spirits dulled to an ashen pallor, often demised,
His monotony spreading like a disease, expelling joy and delight.

A friend, one day, tired of the dreariness, trembling, finally spoke out,
Saying, "When you speak, infuse it with liveliness!
Even if the narrative strays from reality's grasp,
Inject vivacity, infuse it with youth's essence, even if it’s a lie or perjurious”.

Taking heed, the man began to fabricate his commentaries, lie, prefabricate,
Weaving tales so extravagant, his own revitalisation and health proceeded apace.
His stories, although fictitious, overflowed with exuberance and fibbery,
Each word and falsehood carrying the weight of an adventurous flight of absorption.

Gathered listeners eagerly absorbed each transformed word, fixated in the fibs,
His narratives so vivid, transparent as crystal, yet all a distorted pretence.
Though rooted in fabrication, they ignited a spark, nay a fire,
A unique flame in the hearts of every listening individual blatantly deceived.

For in the art of storytelling, at times, and sometimes always,
Truth and fiction embark on separate voyages, opposite trajectories.
Thus the man, once a purveyor of tedium and colourless drab,
Discovered the arena of imagination, of life.

He learned, it's not solely the conveyance of facts and celebration of the mundane,
But the enchantment of storytelling and fiction that illuminates the path to the soul.
And though he had once been mundane, a man of the ordinary, prosaic,
He uncovered a universe where creativity and fantastic inventiveness, and lies, holds sway.

Portrait on the Mundane Man. Watercolour.