Capricious

73 - Mantra

"You are a slave of what you need in your soul."
- Carl Jung

They say to follow your dreams, but I have too many dreams.

I step back and forth, minding my own, calm sweeping through like a forgotten dream. I'm drawn from the anxious fray, up into my own little cloud, pink in the twilight glow. I'm melting with creativity, perspectives taking new turns of possibility, healthy in mind as I take all in my stride. I don't have to break the mould, just bend it to extremes, to travel through the world, and make my mark.

I'm running from myself, letting each day flutter by in all I convince myself is real, the tide monotonous throughout this dreary death. My purpose seems misguided, time enough to play yet all bland to the taste, too much and not enough intertwining through and through. I am sickened by the world, blank within this page, sorcery grinding a presupposed future to an imaginary halt and causing such dismay. It is as it always was, finding myself a genius of class, right time and time again. My thoughts play with each other, my feelings rise and fall, staying alive to explore and exist as fast as I can. This world is far from perfect, the rules need to change as all else changes, this dynamic design so intricate yet so predictable. My power may yet grow, but I fear the jumps to take me there, too content it seems with the flatline I cannot rid myself of. I have explored parts of every level, and I know what else awaits me, so I die inside for my cold perspective, ignorant now to all out of touch. The world will crash and burn, and I will realise more than anyone else, think differently to anyone else, arrive at the future before anyone else, yet for little, as I can't affect what I wish, enslaving myself to a frustrating mantra, failing without a stronger personality.

That twilight lamplight glow filtering through clouds and trees, awash with a dark dread smoothly draining me from life, sound drowns away leaving me flat and worn, a wrestling heart in the shadow of conflict. In the midst of milky dusk, up and bright then down and dark, cycling between planes of mind that can't decide what shade to be, figments of happiness trapped by wisdoms free. I'm wandering blind, progress seeming a double agent of deceit, for what am I growing to be now, with dreams too deep down to reach? I dance around this destructive ground trying to be me, shaken by anxieties still that rip constantly through my soul, I've seen too much and lost my touch, trapped in a sinking well of colourful misery.

A praying mantis zipping through the reeds, jungle noises juicy to my ears, I'm woken from a bad dream, a spice of life rising above the setting sun. I'm settled in my nest, flutes and strings echoing past my head, nature's vibes collating messy thoughts of mind. A treasure lies near, my ability to feel the future guiding me on, we plant our trees golden with dreams until all we have is gone. This cradle carries me through, some craze of purpose in the background, fixing in person is no reason to fear. I'm too aware of all of this, patterns and extrapolation tying me to bars, yet a gymnast breaking through. I forgive the harmless fades, giving in to the world it plays, for may to ignore would be weakness to adapt to all. Whatever the weather I travel on my way, carrying anxious burdens to build character, vibrations smooth and dimensions anew. I cannot perish now, I have new ways to think, a realm to explore still within my fingertips.

A love letter it is then, to my loves of passion and person, a dream to live within each other's souls. This is my way to play, a future that can be bright and brilliant, should any of a million chances chance to shine. I can be more if I choose, drop intensive and intensity so I can be more me, cross paths defined by choice, the wand on which I see. Carousel, carousel, spinning my mind around, emotions of the soul a flashing, flickering spell. How my words seem then to dance, about fire and ice in every which way and form, an echo of art growing deep inside my soul. We scale mountains of our own device, endure passionate colds to raise the game, and all times hide from our own demise. A glitter of stars scattered across the sky, I'm sorry but I cannot stay, honest to the end in a tragic field of lies. Yet you give me hope that together we can build, dreams enough of my insatiable design, a story of magic and woke beyond all we leave behind. Connections deep and powerful to stir upon the world, diverse and full of colour they shine, a life to live with both boy and with girl. And as the sky darkens into night, still a thousand lanterns glow, repeating the mantra of all we come to know.

It's a smoky haze of calm, the float easy and my mind less breezy, life too close to thought. Whether dancing leaves flickering among swaying trees, or a flight far away dressed up like a star, fading moments without charm keep on playing the tease.

Gears of the future arising in their forms, charged with change they haunt so strange, straying from the present with my past so scorned. I can jump through these tunnels to get to another side, risking dreams for dreams all lost in the endless tide. These troubles they seem ever so fake, a frantic rescue only to be disappointed, always wanting to be more and to fall into the lake. What time will I lose stranded from the living I crave, toiling with ideas never good enough to save, playing games with my life and anything I can say. The edges of the map burn away, losing parts of myself in routine, I step large but never up, staying rich in their esteem. I'm too scared to take the step, letting others take lead from hints I've left behind, losing the social ties I know I've undermined. It's as if I know my future, planned out within my anxious head, too smart for the relevant risks, too lost in all that has been said. Such frustration pains me for all I cannot do, hurt by the awkward thought of communication, in day dreams that die so soon, I cannot run myself let alone a whole nation, for whatever good intention I mean to.