So what if I spend my time twirling in a made up world
Creating scenarios acted out by my own moody whims?
So what if I stare out of the window
And see, instead of a blank wall,
A lush garden, in which fairies and elves laugh and sup?
So what if I pretend my heart is a violin
Which keeps playing tunes in ode to the dark melancholy of life?
So what if I look in the mirror
Merely to say to myself that the body which I can see
Is not the real me?
So what if I toss and turn in my bed each night
Yearning to be made of magic so as to be able
To touch a star and shatter the mystery that makes up
The whole of Earthly existence?
Pray, does it matter, in the very end
Does it matter if things are the way they are
And people are as they are?
Does it matter and shall it ever?
Why, if life is itself a mere foundation laid on theories
Pray, who am I to question the many shades of my own being?
So what if I choose to abide to my own choices
To make of my life a passage worth living?
So what if I tend to walk according to my own tempo
And affirm my genuineness?
Pray, would life not have been fairer if
Like me, the rest of humankind
Did see fit to close their eyes, open their arms wide
And smile up at the source of everything,
Totally lost in submission to simply
Being, as they have been made to be!