The door of the palace is open...

The midget farmer looks at it
and runs away.

For it's not the palace he wants
but the palace of his brain.

Midget he knows too well
life is not for him
but imagination
loves him so
that there he is in control:
loving creature of the nights and hearts.

Creates and sees the stars.

Life is not for it to be living
but imagining and being in the eyes
of the creation itself.

Soon the master returns to the palace
and looks for something stolen.

Nothing,
everything in its place...