The chains
of perception
sing the song
of solitude.

The chant
echoes
as a tribute
to the tribe
of objectivity.

The trap is set.

A spell
of subjectivity
is cast
upon those
who desire
to control
the silent
through
our melodic
senses;
stating
it is objective
by using
our treacherous
minds to build
an empire
out of dust.

Can you feel
how power
becomes
the powder
that stings
our owned
sight?

Chained
to a headache
I am
as I am
informed
of my limits
through perception.

My buzzing
shout denounces
my lack of freedom
as I cry the dazzling
song of frustration.

Let me go!

So much sorrow
cannot be contained
in a song of perpetual
confinement.

I mask my pain,
marking my blindness
with spots of faith.

I walk toward
the wall until
perception
shakes my head…

No!

Is it all
dead
ended?

It is my precept
to sing until
I find the truth.

Is there such truth?

Imagination
precedes perception,
creation
precedes imagination,
love
precedes creation,
all
precedes love,
love
seeds all;
all
seeds love,
love
feeds creation,
imagination
feeds creation,
perception
feeds imagination
as a loop.

Deep
in the
forest
of wills
as a mill
in rotation
is infinity.

As a loop
it can exist
because
infinity
exists
in buds
of chains.

If infinity
exists,
then…

Can I challenge
the wall of despair
by confronting
perception
with my
imagination?

Can I defy
imagination
by loving
creation?

Can I deal
with it all
by being
love?

Who is it
who loves?

Who am
I as I love?

Where is
the wall
if I am
the wall?

What are my limits
if I am a loop?

What is infinity
if I am limitless?

Who am I?

Silence.
No more shouting.
I am aware.