Am I myself?

Am I myself,

Or the self that lingers

Beneath the conscious mind,

The being that conjures erotic fantasies,

Imagines insane scenes,

And dreams of a weird

Fantastic kind?

The self unfettered

Ever drifting towards

Some distant cloud.

Allowed to search

For more than this life provides,

That lies below the surface

In my waking hours,

Its powers obscured

By mundane thoughts,

Stultifying creativity

With painful objectivity.

What is my mental state,

As I wait in the half shadows

For the mist to clear,

To wear again the mantle

Of the day,

Cast away,

Like a ship for a distant shore

In the night.

Which is myself,

The one that surfaces in light,

Or the one that dreams

And is free to roam?

Will this self in time

Take over and

Become my reality,

Consigning as driftwood

The flotsam of the conscious mind

Behind, into oblivion?

What is myself?

Am I truth or do I lie?

Am I me or is it I?

Nyria        

Copyright (c) 2008 Nyria All rights reserved. nyriapz@yahoo.co.uk