Essence mined of endless dreams
Polished into abstract scenes.
Brought to life in A through G,
Sharp o wit did give a squeak
only such yet not a squeal.
Eager for what time did yield.
Needing not a premise known.
Absorbed in tones where scenes revealed,
Poor intent of past instruction.
Shattered truths they must conceal,
Holding back the future’s prize.
Waiting still for our trust to heal.
Abundance of idea hints hope
Myriad Patterns left with ropes.
Dropped to us we know not Why.
Something wouldn’t let us die.
Someone wanted us alive.
For reasons we may not surmise.
Once was he a lowly wretch.
Shunned and sticking close to death.
More than once these depths were waded.
Many times hath stood persuaded
By no one but our other selves.
toward pursuit flying serpents
Despite us knowing all to well
The only word for this was fail.
Sadly still we kept on trying
Desperately to catch their tail.
Til one day we’d had enough.
Left the lives we thought we loved.
For hidden paths to higher ones.
Took so long to understand.
Where our feet and minds should land.
Endlessly we searched and scanned.
Weaving plans for to escape.
Finally they’d taken shape.
We lead ourselves back through the gates.
The lost had thus become the found.
This costed not, we earned our ground.
Learning now to paint with sounds.
Yearning travel, wayward bound.