The Road To Shangri-La (Poetry)

Does a poet need to travel —
by some gypsy instinct led
or can invention’s trail unravel
slow-meander through his head?

Who will swear he hasn’t been there —
set his feet on sacred ground
that he describes as though it’s somewhere
non-believers won’t have found?

Perhaps there are such magic places
none can see but through his eyes
half-perceived wide open spaces
with their clean uncluttered skies

Does his dream inform our senses
of some world we might have known
without walls and ‘keep out’ fences
where the pilgrim’s free to roam?

Readers follow in quiet legions
down the road to Shangri-La
cross those vast imagined regions
guided by his wandering star