My Friend

I'm homesick for an idea, for a person and a place, I've never been near.

An imaginary friend, if you will, no more real in my life than the words on my computer, or the wind that whispers in my ear at the park. And I am too old for imaginary friends.

Yet, this imaginary one gives me hope and brings joy into my life in ways that are unimaginable, which I suppose is what imaginary things do.

The unimaginable manifests and then, "poof," like the insubstantial smoke that it is, it will be gone. But it is here for me now when I need it and for whatever reason that is, I am grateful.

My life feels like a dream and I feel as insubstantial as the smoke I speak of, so perhaps this is where the magic comes from.

Deep within the mists and confusion of this time is a shape and a voice that flickers in and out and for all its impermanence, it is what is keeping me afloat.