Dream the Kaleidoscope

Poetry

I imagine myself to be like a kaleidoscope,

colors morphing into shapes and beings

all made through refraction and motion.

Each glass bead dances to a different tune —

the yellow to cast a fragmented star,

the red to envelop a supernova igniting,

the blue to call back a tide too wild.

My imagination alights with fancies

like the varied spin of those shards

shifting against tiny rotating mirrors.

The colors don’t matter as much to me —

because green can soothe or erupt,

just as orange can enliven or mellow —

and I know moods can shift just the same.

But each etching in my head delights

even though the doing can infuriate

as I try to capture images in words.

Pulling out each piece, pristine,

might be like trying to catch a shadow

or freeze the kaleidoscope in frames

for later inspection and dissection.