Existing Phantom
He is the shadow that walks among us--
The strong base upon which we play.
And through whom all of our dreams,
whether small or large, come to fruition.
He does not take homage, nor thanks--
He neither dons the Lord's robe--
Nor the manipulator's clawed Mantle.
And we are the richer for his existence.
He is a quiet mist, out of which laughter,
when it comes, rings loudly and true.
And when we play upon the fields he lays,
he smiles gently, and takes great pride in us.
Who is this Towering Figure, astride the Land?
Who is this Gentle Father, who in writing,
lets our own thoughts invade and invite?
He is the very Figment of our own Imagination--
And the Existing Phantom of our promising dreams.
©1997 Quelonzia/Terry Schorer
Note: This poem is dedicated to Donavan Kienenberger