In a water filled room, there float air filled white balloons,
Highlighted by the stars and the illumination of the moon.
Calmly they move about, carrying other men’s delights;
Suspended in motion but animate with spoken history.
Do they belong to me? It’s hard to say,
Though with a breeze of force I can call them all back to me
Flipping through them like the reminiscent pages of old memories
Some dear, others unclear, but surely they taught me how to tranquilly be here.

The sentinel that is the ‘All Seeing Eye’ strolls lazily with a golden scepter in hand;
A magical Lotus ring serves at his command.
Claimed they are, trapped not in balloons and sealed jars.
Alerted by sudden ripples in the room, he hurries to the sound of an imminent gloom.
A well out of nowhere blooms, sprouting endless vines and thorns; dancing to haunting melodies and tunes.
A from in front of him appears, commanding and with a face that sneers
Hypnotized by the sound of the beautiful sadness, he feels himself surrender his scepter and Lotus.
Though remorsefully he weeps, for letting the fear seeps, and letting go of precious keeps.
Where to start, to retrieve what is lost?
Perhaps back to the beginning, towards white balloons that keeps spinning afloat,
Only then…maybe only then will I give in to the sweet surrender.