Who was I before I was told what to be modelled to be, a plastic version of the raw human elixir
Can you bend a straight line?
It will ping back unto itself
The Truth is there
Yet it is contorted and interpreted by minds.. hypnotised
A trance of a spell
Who are you?
The thing without the conditions, lines and boxes
The omnipresent silent One
Beyond all things…
And of all things…
I observe the waves and ebbs and flows…
Yet nobody appears to know
Who were you as a child?
Before the establishment got their hands on your mind…
Yet from a familiar angle, we’re numbers to the other..
What is this other?
Sometimes I feel as if I’m floating, drifting in and out of a smokey mirrored dream
The hall of mirrors
Why then, do I feel obliged to sign the documents of the dream
The hall of mirrors…
To be seen with new lenses
Into the eternal now.