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Gates to itself,
Theories about identity
Falling structures
Lost conjectures
Tsunami on the phase of retreat,
The shores dry, the weather shy
Expectations high, you don’t know why.
The mouth strange, head spinning,
Dogs barking, cats running,
A murder above, parakeets confusion
And you’re still under a normality illusion.
Same feeling when you are at the verge,
The abyssal edge of yourself unknown
Like a stranger visiting from uptown, a merge.
As the shadows let themselves revealed
You may break or be a pristine consciousness
Of body and brain, once concealed.
Beware when suddenly the self gates open,
Inner child, the psychopath is also you
May you control which part you let through?
Can you really decide a little of what is the real you?
Snows of Kilimanjaro, Fuji-San, what heights are your parts?
