The Other Me

The Other Me

In my mind I can be here now or in another place.

I need not move an inch but merely blink to change places.

Here I am preoccupied with what I see but this can change when I think.

My mind bears the capacity to travel from place to place.

Into time either forward or back into the past.

My imagination can be irresponsible and insensitive.

As I revisit the past and see myself as a child.

Then as a soldier in uniform in some foreign clime.

Within an inking I can transport myself from the parade ground.

To summer's glade with an imagined lover lying entwined.

Then fantasy can take over and I am the leader of a nation.

Or standing beside my own coffin in the portals of a church.

I can idle myself and let the wind blow through my consciousness.

To lead me to the unsuspecting landscapes of which I know nothing.

The mind is my vehicle with my imagination as the passenger.

It contains a memory bank extraordinaire and far reaching.

It recalls the minutest detail of colour or shape.

It is also my seductress, my temptress into the realm of passion.

It speaks with God who is forever close and a silent observer.

He sits as if an audience to monitor and critique.

I am glad of his presence as it assures me of not being alone.

Or out of control or even colliding with insanity.

Here one minute and gone the next at the will of the mind.

The mind is a camera in the soul with a memory bank.

I can replay over again and delete what I find abhorrent. 

It serves me well as I drum up and stimulate my imagination.

A creative spirit is then forthcoming and real.

It is charged and motivated to cause the blood to boil.

My pen and brush spring into life and I write and paint.

Through the long hours of the night.