Blue Skies of Imagination

"Why is your writing creativity disparaging under the blue skies of imagination,? the man in the heart said,
"Do you not know that the eyes of your soul have given you a vision quest to see? If you look a little harder
you'll realize there is a ship in the sky that sails and you'll dream again. Do you not dream?"
"'I am your father," the giant holding the pen said, "and I am writing through you."
"My child, I know you think I left you when I died and abandonment hurts."
"I didn't leave you." he said.
I looked out the window to see it was the same air, only dirtier, from toxic waste. Life pollution had made the
world lose its clarity like the steamy mirror of my writing.
"Thanks, Dad." I said, waving at him in heaven.
"You're welcome daughter," he replied.
As I watched my Dad sail in a Titanic size ship in the sky, moving a cloud away, the story I was writing
came to life. Respect was the lesson for the day and my teacher was worthy of all the respect in the
world.

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