This is my world, this is my fantasy.

Walking down the street the other day, I saw a cat.

Woah, right? No, I didn’t get any pictures, but I swear it was right there, crouched on the street corner, watching me warily as I went by. I can describe it perfectly. Still don’t believe me?

Oh wait, you do? What’s so amazing about seeing a cat?

That’s exactly what I started wondering. I looked at that small, coiled, beautiful, feral beast, and thought– this is fantasy. This is magic. The only thing missing here is the fact that it exists. Then I decided to look at the cat as though I’d never seen one before, as though I’d only ever read of them in fantasy books. Then I looked up and around, and realized that– wow! –we have such an amazing world, it might as well all be a fantasy.

Why should the everyday objects and beings around us be left out of the “awe” boat simply because they exist? That’s hardly fair. There are things just as amazing as magic and myth, but our eyes slid over them like they’re not even there, for no better reason than that they are. But what if we started looking? What if we let ourselves think we live in a fantasy world?

(HINT: This can be used for sci-fi, too, but I’m a fantasy girl, so I’ll stick with  my magic.)

I looked back at the cat on the corner, its shape as smooth, as predatory, as hoax-like as any snapshot of the Loch Ness monster. I began to hum snatches of a song, and before the day was out, I’d tinkered it onto the page. Sorry I can’t give you the tune (think sappy Disney princess la-di-da-ditty), but here are the words.

This is my world,
This is my fantasy,
Everything here
Blowin’ my mind I see

Creatures of wonder
On every street corner—
Is that a feline,
Marbled in grey?

Slit-eyes that divine
Cunning and sly,
Beasts from the fey world
Are lining my way.

This is my world,
This is my fantasy,
Everything here
Blowin’ my mind I see

Great spreading boughs
Towering fifty feet upward,
Needles for leaves
In a dusky blue-green

Can it be real?
I feel bark ‘neath my fingers,
I’m walking through groves
that are built out of dreams!

This is my world,
This is my fantasy,
Everything here
Blowin’ my mind I see

Water turned white
Gushing down in a geyser,
Dangerous as dragons
And loud as their roar.

Some say canals are but
Dirty dull rivers,
I see fair silveren
Slipstreams of lore.

This is my world,
This is my fantasy,
Everything here
Blowin’ my mind I see

Sunrise and sunset,
Explosions of color,
How can the world
Hold such spectrum and hue?

Light is a miracle,
Brightness a legend,
Tell me a tale
Of a sky made of blue!

This is my world,
This is my fantasy,
Everything here
Blowin’ my mind I see

Up in that blue sky
A predator roams
Great fearsome creature
Of feather and claw,

Wings beating, circling,
Both hunter and hunted,
Riding the wind
Above gravity’s law.

This is my world,
This is my fantasy
Open your eyes
To impossibility.

This is my world,
This is my fantasy
Open your eyes
To this reality.

For more poetry, here.

(HINT: This can be used on humans, also. What funny creatures they all are; varied as sprites, dangerous, sweet, or both, and every one powerful. Who could have dreamed up such a thing?)

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6 comments

  1. My sky-child’s favorites continue to be,
    “Light is a miracle,
    Brightness a legend,
    Tell me a tale
    Of a sky made of blue!”,
    and “…Riding the wind
    Above gravity’s law.”

    Then there’s the undine in me, loving:
    “Water turned white
    Gushing down in a geyser,
    Dangerous as dragons
    And loud as their roar.”

    Sight of sky and water is often fantastic, to my eyes. And I’m pleased that I think I still remember this la-di-da-ditty’s tune. ^-^

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