The Imagination Jungle

My story is lost in the jungles of my mind,
Where no person may venture of the 'realistic' kind.

It's a place covered in vines and prickles and thorns,
Where leaves and flowers form when ideas are born.
There are caves and chasms and a towering volcano,
Where new stories bubble and pop and boil,
Until they're thoroughly mulled over and ready to explode,
As a brand new story just burning to be told.

And don't be alarmed when skeletons you find,
In a deep ravine or dangling from a vine.
Those are the stories that didn't quite make it,
With plots or characters that just didn't fit.

But let me tell you, the animals that parade around,
From whom all the poetry and music abound,
Are truly a beautiful sight to be behold,
In the Imagination Jungles that never grow old.

And aha! I have found it! Buried in a tree,
That idea I filed away is finally free.
Now I can get to work and my little jungle I'll leave.
Only to return when I'm in dire need,
Of a story, a poem, a little excitement.
Or just to entertain myself when other thoughts grow silent.

African Sky

As I stood under the African sky,
With all those stars glistening and glowing
in places strange to my eyes,
I realized the nothingness the smallness of me,
The tiny piece of plankton in a wide open sea.

And I wondered how on earth I was in this far place,
And how oh how I would finish this race.
Was it true that only a few weeks ago,
I was only a normal person in a normal home?
It was an eternity ago that I slept in a bed,
That I straightened my hair or stepped in a mall.

But you know? I'm so much happier
With my skirt and my boots
Than I ever could have been
With my cellphone and tunes!

The feeling of helping people and loving them too,
Makes me wish our return date was not so soon.
And I just hope and pray that I left my mark.
That I left my little light in that ominous dark.
And suddenly this sky doesn't seem so different.
Because we're all here together and we're all on a mission.

And whether here or home we will live like we are,
those messengers and teachers still following a star.
And that beautiful African sky's now a comfort,
Of here and of home and the miles in between,
And the harvest and stories that are yet to be seen.