“I do all that becomes a man….he that does more is none.”

Don’t look for heroes,
I’m not Theseus battling the Minotaur.
Once someone showed me the world,
Of imagination.
I’ve learned I can live there quite happily,
Off with the fairies,
Creating a persona to live by,
Not as grand as Jay Gatsby,
But with the same Romantic vision…perhaps.
I can fly like a drone outside myself,
I can survey the world of ritual,
And instinct and platitudes,
I’m part of it.
Those squizzy moments of rapture,
And the fantasy of dreams.
I’ve placed so much upon them,
While truth has always lurked,
Beneath the illusion.
Often I won’t let it enter.
In the end I am all you think I am,
And nothing,
A creature scuttling and grasping,
And believing and hoping,
As ordinary and as great as everyman.