Are these voices of the echoes or the voices of my dreams, from the quiet hush of my mind where they are serene and deep
Are these voices of the echoes or the voices of my dreams, these thoughts are once scattered like leaves in my backyard that I never seem to notice
Are these voices of the echoes or the voices of my dreams, the places I can wonder wakes like slumber for a reason
Are these voices of the echoes or the voices of my dreams, in my golden gleaming eyes these moments stirs like questions…
Do I control each fleeting moment or merely what has been, like each morning light that seem to pass unnoticed the clarity will soon to rise
Do I control each fleeting moment or merely what has been, each unfolded shape that is once blurred reveals our path through endless ways to listen and experience
Do I control each fleeting moment or merely what has been, my wandering self begins to see the vastness stretching the past understood in the measured light
Do I control each fleeting moment or merely what has been, each of my thought is now shaped, not merely felt but currently flowing pure and free…
Is every thought a master of oneself or just a servant of one’s routine, a self examined self has no bounds no edge of mark or no door to open or even no chains to break
Is every thought a master of oneself or just a servant of one’s routine, yet if I grasp each shape is resolved like mist like flees before each and every rains
Is every thought a master of oneself or just a servant of one’s routine, like a whisper drowned in the ocean of dreams forgotten that is once awake
Is every thought a master of oneself or just a servant of one’s routine, where does each ruler sit and learn, the one judges their own steady thought…
Does our own knowledge guide us through the light or merely a walk that where we have once been, I thought once alone that I could touch my own pathway to clear
Does our own knowledge guide us through the light or merely a walk that where we have once been, of only logic were a silver sword that I could easily rely on when in times of doubtful danger
Does our own knowledge guide us through the light or merely a walk that where we have once been, would wisdom bloom within our grasp would it even fade and disappear
Does our own knowledge guide us through the light or merely a walk that where we have once been, would every flicker moment lost in reachable distance with a wave that leaves no kind of trace
Does our own knowledge guide us through the light or merely a walk that where we have once been, or perhaps the journey has no end, no final key, no door to open, or perhaps just the mind forever turns to continue to walk, to ponder and chase the meaning yet unseen…
Watchwords:
The echoes of the the fading, the questions rest
Each thought we turn, reveals another waiting room
Each answer we found is another opening that is swung wide
A journey so deep, a path that is uncertain
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: