I learned a long, long time ago, that I could accomplish things in this place we call reality and yet still spend most of my time in the better reality of my mind. ↗
I walk alone, absorbed in my fantastic play, —
Fencing with rhymes, which, parrying nimbly, back away;
Tripping on words, as on rough paving in the street,
Or bumping into verses I long had dreamed to meet. ↗
No one could say the stories were useless
for as the tongue clacked
five or forty fingers stitched
corn was grated from the husk
pathwork was pieced
or the darning was done...
(from 'The Storyteller Poems') ↗
Tho' you're tired
and weary, still journey on,
Till you come to
your happy abode,
Where all the love
you've been dreaming of,
Will be there at
the end of the road. ↗
