Traveling through space most least revealed,
Not of football, law, or of wheat widespread,
I Journey into this wondrous land
Whose boundaries mock the mind of man.
Is there a signpost up ahead?
My next stop is always The Figment Field
Where shadow and substance are each given words
As are things and ideas, thus we call them all nouns.
The grace within language makes for glory or gore.
Then once thoughts are spoken, we can hide them no more.
Why then is there wonder as confusion abounds?
Perhaps we might study the words of the birds.
The Figment Field is a frame of mind
Who pictures thought through point of view
Catching moments from one end to take to the other
I’m done with this this thought; now, let’s go for another
It stirs words and meaning like psychic stew,
Then it sends out a vibe to draw thoughts of its kind.