The Last Free Land Is the Imagination

For all who remember what cannot be caged

There is a land untouched by laws,

unbound by lineage,

unmapped by mind.

It lives in every soul brave enough to believe.

Imagination is the last uncolonized realm

a place where no system can follow,

no algorithm can predict,

no empire can claim.

In this land,

we birth new worlds with visions never seen,

languages never spoken,

frequencies only the heart can hear.

And yes, there are those who pop the balloons,

those who poke holes in the dream

before it’s even fully formed.

They, too, are sacred.

They stretch the skin of possibility

by testing its strength.

Because just before a new world is born,

there is always pressure.

Constriction.

Noise.

Voices clinging to old frameworks,

identities stitched from systems that no longer breathe.

But then

a crack.

A gasp.

A breath of truth breaks through.

And from that crack,

the ancient waterways return

truths older than empire,

freedom deeper than law,

songs buried in bone memory,

reawakened by faith.

Some say old prophecies give us comfort

because they help us feel prepared.

But what if…

we are the ones writing new prophecies

not with ink,

but with embodiment?

Not repeating what was foretold,

but becoming what was once unimaginable.

Let it be known:

The soul holds the pen now.

And imagination is where we begin.