Fifty Thousand Colours to Your Seven

You think I am foolish

for the likes and loves I have 

for the seemingly insignificant 

things I keep in my mind

and dish out to those

that don’t really want to hear about them,

but to me those little facts

are what makes life so quaint,

and colourful,

and makes me see

the vibrant shades

of the universe

on the whole spectrum hidden in a rainbow.

You see seven colours where I see fifty thousand.

You see pages of boring words

where I see stories, and people, and

creatures that you can’t possibly imagine

with your impossibly small mind.

You see movies with characters that are

unrealistic, or false, or unreasonable, where

I see worlds your mind just does not dare to imagine

because you do not dare to believe in something so fantastic.

Why are you so afraid?

Why do you fear

the power of your mind to build 

castles, and lands, and creatures,

and so many other wonders

that break

the boundaries of the banal

reality we exist in just because it is

as is?

You think I am foolish,

but I would rather be the fool I am,

and keep my stories in my mind

than be the genius that you believe that you are,

and not see every

single

one 

of those fifty thousand colours in the rainbow,

because, I think, even you can agree,

it is far more exciting

than the simple seven 

you are so stuck on keeping.