Always dreaming, Never sleeping. Never meant to conceive but to inspire. Lines between consciousness and unconsciousness melt. The selves are filled with knowledge, Stretching past time. Ink changing thoughts permanent. Souls enclosed inside simple, timeless bindings. Words dance inside the mind of the reader. Creating the intended feeling of intelligence. Building an understanding of the past, present and future. Books swept out to sea waiting to be found. The tide rolls in, and those whose minds are ready, Awaken.

Stepping stones have kept us here. We walk the path before us. The memories of yesteryear push us slowly, And control us. I’m the painting on the wall. The book never opened; The glint of reflection as you pass a window. I’m dreams for some reason left unspoken. I’m here for you. When you stray from the path given. I’m here to show you something new. Waiting to fix the stones that become unwoven. I’m the little ray of sunlight on your face as you awaken. I’m the unconscious meaning. With my own steps that will never be taken, With my own meaning unopened.