written by: Kia Jones
There's a place between, happened and might,
Like the space in the middle, of day and night.
It's the area in your mind, where magic can happen,
If you dare to break, your old thinking patterns.
Allow your thoughts to wander for a while,
Down the lane and up over the stile.
Go into the field of possibility and dreams,
Walk over to the tree, where the wise you leans.
Ask yourself, are things written in stone?
Did our ancestors think, a man may have flown?
Then listen to yourself as the wise you replies,
You soon will see, how a plane now flies.
If it was up to thought you would have no planes,
If it was up to thought there be no sun and no rain.
If it was up to thought the air would run out,
If it was up to thought you would succumb to doubt.
What made man fly, was a given gift,
Found in the land of imagination and,
Writing saved my mind 🙂