This day,
like all other days,
is founded by memories.
memories of what I see
memories of what I feel
and memories of what I hear,
combining to what is real,
and like so many other days,
written on judgement books,
I find myself asking,
what did I do?
what have I done?
where did I go?
my mind has built
a thousand and one frustrations,
mostly for myself;
crimes committed
against my perpetual state of mind,
mostly dreams collecting dust,
anger misguided and misplaced;
maybe.
or is it all lies I tell myself
to create a life
to assure others I think.
maybe there are no thoughts.
Only my mind creates them
to assure myself I do maintain conventions.
The only real wish I had for my life,
was wisdom,
divinely granted
as I am sure the Only can do.
I am divided among my many selves
as to explain this indelible request,
so that I can be most assured
the Only has blessed me with it.
the communication in my mind goes mute,
for I cannot answer the whether or.
wisdom is not something that can
be explained so easily,
and there lies the irony.
perhaps it is simply,
peace of mind,
quieting the voices
which echo through the hollows,
and unifying them to a single purpose,
so I can find a sense of calm among the storm.
-Sigma
