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Summer Is Gone, And Voices Arrive
Folder:
Teardrop of Coloured Soul
Summer is gone, the cold winds of winter are near.
One voice, deeply ingrained, calls to me...
It is a sound I have heard before..
"Come out" it sighs, "Come out and stay" it suggests
"Stay where", I ask, concerned at the answer.
The wind is whistling now, inviting
and inciting me to new levels of distress.
"With me", the voice answers, slightly aggressive.
"Stay with me and be free" cries the words in my mind.
"But free, what is free?" I reply.
The dream cascades gradually down
the interior zone of the mind,
down it comes slowly, suggesting
the answers are no longer mine.
"Freedom is the beginning of acceptance"
moans the odd voice in my heart
"Freedom is the illusion of the soul"
it further explains.
"I'm afraid", I whimper,
"Afraid to see what lies ahead".
And the wind howls now outside
the windows of my fantasy.
"Ahead lies the future" exclaims the voice
"each day you begin the process of death".
And I tremble, just now realizing
I have been talking to myself.
