I met a wise man when I was a child.
He said to me: "Use your imagination and then you will be whole."
So I saw purple trees with thick, orange leaves.
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I talked with polka-dotted dinosaurs,
And ate peanut butter and jelly on a star
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With squiggly green aliens.
I wondered.
I dreamed.
I created.
And I felt whole.
I met the wise man when I was a boy.
He said to me: "Use your mind and then you will be whole."
So I analyzed the size and shapes of white, puffy moths,
Carried rational numbers, understood Manifest Destiny,
And found purpose in the writings
Of books once too thick to carry.
I thought.
I argued.
I was logical.
And I felt whole.
I met the wise man when I was a man.
He said to me: "Use your heart and then you will be whole."
So I embraced passion in my marriage,
Experienced joy and sorrow, hope and despair
From the eyes of my children,
And ate all I could of life.
I cried.
I laughed.
I loved.
And I felt whole.
I did not see the wise man when I was older,
But by then, I realized he was not so wise.
For I had wondered, I had thought, and I had loved,
But he did not tell me to write it down.
And those things that were once so precious
Were now lost,
Forever,
And I no longer felt whole.