I wander along this path,
Ahead of ... but behind the sheep ...
... or so it seems
For in this illusion nothing is in plain sight.
I sleep yet am wide awake
I am real but imagination
I am out of control,
Yet I keep it under control.
Such is the madness of the web.
Nothing new will be spoken
For my words are the wheel,
Which turns round and round
I am always going to repeat myself
But in repeating ... I am the mantra
... the summoning ...
... the spell ...
... the servitor of my highest intention.
But am I alive?
Am I not a shell?
A figment of my mind?
My body a mere impression of what should be
Electrical currents vibrating at a frequency
A mid way point between polarities
What is programmed to be known as sold form.
I imagine then I write
... that I read ...
... that I live ...
... that I fear ...
... that I grow tired ...
... and ...
Amid impatience I feel rage
Something real within this figment
But if it isn't real ... what is it then?
... A dream?
When then do I wake?
Who then am I really?
What then is the purpose of this monotony?
Is this then not that important after all?
What has the struggle been for?
Why have I put up so much of a fight?
What then of my perceptions?
... what is it all for ...
... if it is just imagination?
I distrust all I see and read here ...
...all the wars & destruction ...
... all the claims of terrorism ...
... all the brainwashing by religion ...
I can believe what I wish here ...
I can defy all the rules and the laws ...
... I can make up my own ... it is my dream ....
But then ... if I was captured by the law of the land
And made a prisoner in a tiny cell
How would I escape?
For then it would feel so real?
I would be forced to digest the programming ...
... made by those who govern this collective dream ...
... the interface I share with others also dream this figmentation.
Because I read the impulses within the web
Forced fed programming ... from an early 'age'
I am currently a prisoner
A rat in a maze
A sheep in a field ...
How can I embrace the power of my mind?
And change this? ...
For it is all apparently in my imagination
How do I begin the reprogramming ... of my thoughts?
How do I recapture the creation of my own reality?
For it seems it has all been reconditioned without my consent.
It has been stolen from me
... and from everyone else
The gaolers are seeminly manifestations of our own fear
And the more we fear the more the feed
And the stronger the gaolers become.
it is all there part of the web
The dilemma which the dreamers fail to solve
For fear cannot be removed
And with fear the wheel keeps turning
Round and round
Back to the start
A loop ... in man made time ...
