Bestowed upon the gift of thought
While trained be time or what not
The lack there of brings only more
More that could have been
More that never was
And turned the naked eye into air
For it held all that visioned to be
All that meaning that was without
All that might have been but was not
And still it progresses in mind
But where does the soul stand beyond
If nothing but falsehood surrounds
Is it a reality amongst itself?
Or fictional of only ones mind
I am not to speak of worlds
And thus journey mine own, alone
For the night be still and calm
As many eyes rest away
It plays my stage of this reality
Of all I meant it to be
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