Mind of My Mind

Now the dawn awakes
in purple splendour,
a drunken mist
on dancing feet.

In celebration swing
those branching eyes,
to golden hymns
and yawning skies.

While a sleeping
blurry ignorance,
insists I disturb,
the waters of no reflections,
with my thoughts
wet in the salt
of misconceptions,
that refuse to awaken.

— Be quiet. He yelled to the mind of his mind. Angry at the faces within. Hear; the final cacophony awaits.

Speaking, he lays the mine before those feet. His face smiles, the wrinkles disappear. The stress of epochs soften into the now.

Clouds swirl in mirth; the jungle laughing in the winds; witnesses — silently.

The final conch blows. And then; a loud thundering boom echoes through the trees. The loudest sound of them all and the brightly lit dawn is engulfed.

Red awakening.