Today, before I go out to find blueberries and a final resting place for my onion, I’d like to share a poem of Hafiz with you.
This poem could have been addressed to me because I’m often lost in my imaginary world, and have long ago stopped trying to make any of it reality. But his words will paint pictures in your mind, and may have started to change mine.
Imagination Does Not Exist
You should come close to me tonight wayfarer
For I will be celebrating you.
Your beauty still causes me madness,
Keeps the neighbours complaining
When I start shouting in the middle of the night
Because I can’t bear all this joy.
I will be giving birth to suns.
I will be holding forests upside down
Gently shaking soft animals from trees and burrows
Into my lap.
What you conceive as imagination
Does not exist for me.
Whatever you can do in a dream
Or on your mind-canvas
My hands can pull – alive – from my coat pocket.
But let’s not talk about my divine world.
For what I most want to know
(Poem originally found here)