Aria of self.

As soft sediment lay across the grave
of the dreamer, doubt awaits.
The shallow men in this area
Take time to clear the heart of creation.

The front of my mind is sprinkled with epitaphs.
The names upon them are my hopes and dreams.
The soft sediment will now be my memory,
So that one can bury the fulfilled.

              Take it all again.
Through it still the mind dreams of will,
and savors-
Almost every bit of choice.

The aria of conscious logic echos through
the syphony hall of my mind,
While the audience of ignorance
watches- and learns from self,
The ever changing dream.

The the ever changing screams
that take on your drums.
Through the canals of awareness,
to bring you to a conclusion.

To the air that passes, to share one thought.
Along the chords of reason, do the voices make a sound.
And only then do we allow truth to be found.

Submitted by: http://moonlitbeat.tumblr.com/