I used to wonder about the dreams within me
and about the nitemares that held on so tight.
How many trials must a soul be borne into
before their sorrows may find a light?
The surface fading further into the void above me
as my thoughts pull me deeper in this spiral -
the whirlpool of insanity in life's precious waters.
To hold onto something as our own, we must claim all right to it.
Yet who has such an assuming power to consume all in her presence?
The only rights we refuse to acknowledge are those same few who truly exist.
For what external values may any soul keep
beyond the selfish nourishment of their own ego and physicality?
The branch of such desires being the dream yet chaotic nitemare we hold within a sacred realm -
to judge not but to see beyond -
The spirituality of a lost race -
the forgotten key to the kingdom -
the third eye.
And it sees the truth in everything.
