Do not think about Edwardian & Victorian summer houses, the London Ton, the costal farms, the light houses, and fishing villages.
Do not think about the metropolis throngs, musical songs, urban lawns.
Do not think about space freight bars, orbital stars, stellar rifts, and guns that go biff.
Do not think of magical schools, celestial daughters, green energy tools.
Do not think of class rooms of the mind, heartbreaks pined, angst defined.
Do not think of myriad planes for Doctors Strange flow astral again.
Do not think of adventures gathered, bards scolded, treasures sorted.
Do not think of dystopia scenes, rarely green, confounding schemes.
Do not think of household and apartment angst, tired pranks, giving without thanks.
Do not think of demi-god rage, a fresh page, confusion made.
Do not think of cherry blossom paths, prose token verse, love word in supply and in dearth.
Write down everything you hear, that you find dear. Keep a note file on hand. Make Plan.
Listen for the whispers at The Muses Door.