The Dichotomy of the Imagination

Cynical Wordsmith

When describing a sunset,
The term “red” comes to mind.
But this term alone
Doesn’t capture the sky,
It doesn’t narrow down the shade
Or the vastness,
So I pick familiar words
To bring the reader in close:
Crimson, vermillion, cherry, or
Expansive, encompassing, all-embracing.

We continue expanding, until
I’ve got a rouge, ruby sky
Blended with amber and straw hues
The clouds drift by
Like blades of golden grass with the wind
The piercing sun shines light
On everything we see
And the dark shadows grow longer, preparing for the night.

We’ve got our scene, but here’s my issue:
Do your sunsets have clouds?
Did I just limit your imagination with my imagination?
Or did I just bring something to the forefront
That you hadn’t even noticed?
My imagination is my daemon
Because it is my creative best friend
And my restrictive worst enemy
And it does drive me…

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