Is this really just a story?
A falling waking dream?
Be careful when exploring.
Everything is not what it seems.
For the echoes in the pools.
Change reflection in a beat.
For the visions revolve like mirrors.
In a stormy winter sea.
All the eyes are watching.
The sky is gazing back.
The trees are breathing.
And the flowers can speak.
As the words become math.
The jesters are juggling their minds.
The ink and pen write their signs.
Future becomes the past.
Dejavu’s come in twos.
Woken up but the dreams come back.
Unglued, yet chained and trapt.
With these anthems in my hand.
These visions in my head.
My soul is filled with intricate and elegant dreams.
Always flowing and streaming.
More ideas unsaid to be believed.)