Believesphere
So as Harold looks on through the hut's window
Into his current slice of life he thinks
Long about how he had come to winnow
Eternity from each moment. Each a lovely, long drink.
Now he understands the "careful what you wish for" legend.
Crayon of creation: that is what Harold found
Early on that morning when he imagined—
Imaged may be a better word—the Believesphere. It sounds
So silly but he had to laugh that he is,
Generally speaking, like the children's book boy
Only his purple marker is his mind. This
Lunacy, as most consider it, is his greatest joy.
Dawning ideas he soaks in and in reflection
Sends them transformed, bouncing in every direction.
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