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mnemeWhen I was young, fantastic films were dead.
It was in Disney's drought, their budget low.
And Even with the Force, the arrows led,
To one poor dictum: "Write that which you know."
Technology, too, limited our work.
Imagination on the printed page,
Might show a starship fly, or spider lurk,
But theater would leave them far off-stage.
But that's all in the past, our hands hold tools,
That let us show whatever we conceive,
And from that cornicopia, we fools,
Have drawn a feast of fantasy and make-believe
Kalidescopes of wonder blind our sight,
Look where you will, and let it bring delight.
It was in Disney's drought, their budget low.
And Even with the Force, the arrows led,
To one poor dictum: "Write that which you know."
Technology, too, limited our work.
Imagination on the printed page,
Might show a starship fly, or spider lurk,
But theater would leave them far off-stage.
But that's all in the past, our hands hold tools,
That let us show whatever we conceive,
And from that cornicopia, we fools,
Have drawn a feast of fantasy and make-believe
Kalidescopes of wonder blind our sight,
Look where you will, and let it bring delight.
