The wild mirrors expel the gentle projection of your identity
Oozing out like a supreme continuation,
Revealing to you nothing
And Your pupils strike with a harsh protest
but it is nothing but the ego of the iris -
Protesting as you strip away the physical and insignificant
And that small black point of your vitality succeeds to swallow you whole,
Washing over you until you become fully immersed in a lake of your subconscious.
Swimming in this flood that subsides to the cosmic blue of your united origin -
A blast twisted into a thousand gateways that initialized your very breath,
That place where we both arose
But as we retired into our skin we grew sick
And craved only our home.
This preview lectures my detached alert.
You are the center, laying still
sabotaged by its aching charm -
A puppet of executive lifestyle
fabricated relaxation beneath a character.
But where are you now?
And how far have you gone?
The silence of a star mocks my sanity.
Deduced to a haunted lunatic under every horizon
For we are both pure astronomy,
But the ego of the expert is forcibly sparing me.
Opposite of this subtle ambiance
Attacking this companion
Feeding me truth,
Forcing this pupil to close and cling to my rope
Retracting and adjusting to delusion,
But I am still here,
An orb of fallow untapped consciousness
And your indifferent silence is a murderer.