“It is on the plane of the daydream and not on that of facts that childhood remains alive and poetically useful within us. Through this permanent childhood, we maintain the poetry of the past. To inhabit oneirically the house we were born in means more than to inhabit in memory; it means living in this house that is gone, the way we used to dream in it. What special depth there is in a child’s daydream! And how happy the child who really possesses his moments of solitude!” — Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

In praise of solitude,

and daydreams,

as the marvels,

awe and terrors

of childhood,

lived beyond the borders

of time,

hold us captive

and spellbound

to the shadows

stalking across the floor

in the house

where the light

in the window

looks out at us

looking in

to secure

favored intimacy

from the company

of dreams.