I like rhyme and will likely rework this into a rhymed poem.
Child of the earth, walking through
the grind of days and sleepless nights,
put down your burden,
just for a moment.
Forget the ache in your chest,
the endless scroll of worries.
Let imagination take the wheel,
brightening the hour,
lifting you clear of the shadows.
Allow me to lead you,
to a place where nothing presses,
to a garden made of light.
Rising above the noise of the world,
Phantasia waits, hidden in the trees.
It looks like something torn from a dream—
a retreat one might hoard for oneself,
invisible to the casual eye.
Few have found it,
but all who have, return changed.
It feels like stumbling into a myth,
something ancient whispered into the present.
WoPoLi 
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