Thing
of mystery
It
keeps me all so wary
Dream,
think, remember
Also
called the mind
Sometimes
even as the soul
It is a
wonder
Life,
lived without it
Would
turn us into robots
Living
and toiling
Though
a heart we have
A mind
allows us to dream
To
escape even
It's
essence mystic
It's
origin yet unknown
It's
name known to all
Imagination
The
most loved tool of poets
That
which we treasure!
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