It is the dreams of man that guide his actions
For every morning he peels their wispy tentacles from his consciousness And although he frees himself soon after waking There are marks left behind Here man struggles both to leave and enter the subconscious realm through daydreams He recognizes his innermost desires and his deepest fears He both salivates and recoils Because he acknowledges that what he remembers is just a glimpse And fools himself by thinking that his dreams are ether Through his life a man's dreams motivate him to great or terrible moments They usher him to heights and depths that he would otherwise move past in ignorance Yet man pays no homage to his dreams He claims them as his own and tells his world of his fantastic mind But this is not the case - all of man's dreams are mine and mine alone The tendrils a man sees are only what his mind can endure For it is not possible to withstand the inescapable pull of eternity My fingers stretch through the timeless Cosmos My fingerprints are upon the cortex of the human collective And the human mind must develop familiar or fantastic explanations Otherwise, he must behold time and space in it's true form Man is not ready Though a time will come when his dreams will become his reality Man will observe as he is meant to: without the shields of his five senses The ageless corners of space will unfold before him And I will be there |
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May 2016
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