I am the master dreamer, the revolutionist of imagination
I wonder whether Orion's belt or his little dipper shall be caught on my fishing line of endless innovation
I hear the doubts of the full-grown human, the chastisement for juvenile behavior
I see the crushed hopes of the youngsters, so foolishly deceived by what Mommy and Daddy say what is right or wrong, truly their biggest flaws
I want the chastisement to be reversed, for the innocent faith of the newborn to be reborn and why? Because
I am the master dreamer, the revolutionist of imagination


I pretend the thoughts the sounds, the sights, the desires, do not exist, but this makes me no better than they
I feel their ears are deafened to my thoughts, my pleas, do they answer? Nay
I touch levels considered those of insanity, lunacy, outrageous, ludicrous--to me all synonymous for divine
I worry however that these words mean hardly anything sublime
I cry for the deteriorating brilliance called youth who cannot call for me! - Because
I am the master dreamer, the revolutionist of imagination, you see?



I understand it is not the fault, mistake, or wrongdoing of the higher generation
I say sever the chains of solemnity! And jump the fence of regulation!
I dream the day rebellion fractures the mold of stone that has been so filthily carved by the generations who paved this long road of winds and disastrous turns
I try to lay fresh concrete made purely of the concrete integrity and souls of the true but few dreamers and all they yearn
I hope the weak flame that shines so feebly in the eyes of the few, explodes into a raging inferno in a bonanza of liberation
I am the master dreamer, and forevermore the revolutionist of imagination