Imagination Without Action

It is an art to make a picture
and never paint it
to conceive of a novel
without scribbling a word
and imagine a world
in the now that is here
while letting you rest
pursuing it not

Often I fail
when demanding the future
become what I think
it must ought concede
and yet this is false
of course it won't budge
the mind may run out
whilst brain don't hold grudge

Constantly calling 
going to voice
mailing no postage
demurring the choice
and yet the adventures
concocted inside
demand the attention
of my soul's lighted ride

These exertions with no
reality function
are beautiful snow
covering junctions
delight it yet lives
while possibilities die
unwalked road forgives
while right here I lie