Language is a tool,
not a temple of truth.

Thought is like language,
so elusive that its bulwark
crumbles as you dilute
words in a creative broth.

In the depth
of our imaginary skills
lies an abysm of joy.

It is waiting
for your
explosive soul
to dream
its strongest
by expanding
language into
endless coils
of love.

If language
is a tool,
is thought
the reason
or a result?

As I desire,
I limit myself
to thought.

As I think,
I limit myself
to what is
inside of me.

As I speak,
I limit myself
to words.

As I touch,
I limit myself
to perception.

As I perceive,
I limit myself
to what is
outside of me.

As I imagine,
I limit myself
to my ability
to create.

In thought
and perception,
lies objectivity,
so where does
creativity
sleep?

In my bedroom,
you might say,
so where
do you sleep?

In my bed,
you might say,
so where
is your sleep?

In my mind,
you might say,
so where
are you?

In my sleep,
you might say,
so who
is sleeping?

Me,
you might say,
so who
are you?

If you
can’t answer,
but with only
another “me”,
ask:

Why can’t an eye
confess what it sees
unless it observes
its naked state
as it sleeps?

Are you awake
or still dreaming?

Keep it
your way.

Sit in
objectivity.

Build
your facts.

Stand over
subjectivity.

Dream on.

Better yet,
dream up…

Has the bulwark
gone home?

Where is home?