I met a wise man when I was a child.

He said to me: "Use your imagination and then you will be whole."

So I saw purple trees with thick, orange leaves.

I talked with polka-dotted dinosaurs,

And ate peanut butter and jelly on a star

With squiggly green aliens.

I wondered.

I dreamed.

I created.

And I felt whole.

I met the wise man when I was a boy.

He said to me: "Use your mind and then you will be whole."

So I analyzed the size and shapes of white, puffy moths,

Carried rational numbers, understood Manifest Destiny,

And found purpose in the writings

Of books once too thick to carry.

I thought.

I argued.

I was logical.

And I felt whole.

I met the wise man when I was a man.

He said to me: "Use your heart and then you will be whole."

So I embraced passion in my marriage,

Experienced joy and sorrow, hope and despair

From the eyes of my children,

And ate all I could of life.

I cried.

I laughed.

I loved.

And I felt whole.

I did not see the wise man when I was older,

But by then, I realized he was not so wise.

For I had wondered, I had thought, and I had loved,

But he did not tell me to write it down.

And those things that were once so precious

Were now lost,

Forever,

And I no longer felt whole.