Conscious Walks Through Subconsciousness

There are moments that each of us encounters, when the boundary between reality and fantasy begins to blur. Much like the days when the dream of the previous night had images so powerful that the scenes seem real, so too is the effect of an illusion that one desperately wants to believe in.

Such is the power of these illusions that it takes but little effort to pull one away from what one knows to be true and drags you into its insanity and temporary happiness. If it brings happiness though, however fleeting it may be, why do I call it an ill? Perhaps solely because of the fall that follows it…

For every want you ever craved,
And helping hand that you saw fit to raise,
For all the words and smiles around today,
Would you sing along or fume and rage?
An early dusk turns light to grey,
The leaves that drift are just a shade of me,
Longest walk on the shortest of days,
Reminding you to try and forget

Remember to forget those mists and dreams,
Adopting the mirth to forsake the inner realm,
See your face alone in a growing haze,
Did those words ever return other than in pain?
A life led to feed the halo and the crown,
But the heels never touched upon the ground,
When every gust brought a quiet storm,
How could the trapped help but dance about?

Eyes that train sights up to the stars,
Would ever live, but be shut to me inside,
And when the light was shining bright,
The flames consumed what was yours by right,
There was no way on where you sought,
Perhaps a door leading unto stone walls,
But when on moonlit night the dew will fall,
You’ll return to my truth once more

See once more the brooder enter the place,
Once more I close my eyes to ignore him,
Maybe someday when the times have changed,
I may recall today and myself hate,
The fallacies that rule me from day to day,
Twist you too but easily you forget,
For some would much rather turn face away,
Than tease the mind with shameful pain

Barbarians that don the guise of men,
And words that cloak in them the pill of death,
What price would you not pay for me to tell,
True moments from those in which you dwell?
The emotion of pacifying intensity’s a lie,
And the word that soothes, not balm but fire’s child,
But still beckoning at the doors of the mind
Violent happiness shall kill all inside…