VannaLanna

mariannapaige:

If the boy who draws

let’s you look over his shoulder.

If the poet

smiles

and shows you her words.

If the girl who sings for the shower only,

hums a song

in front of you.

Know that you’re no longer a person

but the air

and dust

that fills their lungs.

When the world perishes,

and all things cease to exist,

you’ll remain inside an ink stain,

a paint brush,

a song.

— Alaska Gold

More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold—
That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet’s eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven.
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy.
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
Theseus, Act 5, Scene 1, A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (via lovermadmanpoet)