Once we thought
a golden chariot brought
the sun to move around the earth,
once we saw only what could be seen—
except the spirits in-between
here and there, birthed
in our imaginations,
as we created causation
to explain our earth.
Once, did dragons breath fire
until they were forced to retire?
Any theory can be brought forth
for haters and deniers,
but crisscross the wires,
spread kindness and mirth.
My theory this—
not to be dismissed
through rotations of the earth–
believe in facts, the real,
but sense earth’s magic, the ideal.
This poem is for my theory prompt on dVerse. Join us in poetic theorizing!