Pieces of an idea interspersed with exaggerations,
Half baked truths cooked in wily imaginations,
Tickling the subtlest of the subtle desires,
Vivid images that one thoroughly admires
Sink slowly into the depths of human mind
Leaving behind their imprints for one to find
The way to the hands that weave and sell such magic
In the theatres of mind, where their creations become nostalgic.
How beautiful is this imagination of a thing so boring!
A game of deceit, a wordly need though but I can’t stop myself wondering !