I am the guy outside the window
Wondering what it must be like to touch,
to feel...
I am the guy who appreciates a few seconds of kindness
Wondering what it means to live in a perfect world

I am the guy who finds success in defeat
Digesting just how strong I must be
Often finding failure in victory, if victory means I sell my soul...

The hours are long and there is so much to do in a second
it boils down to a single act
right down to thought and the moments in between
and the way you perceive the world as you stop thinking
without falling asleep
Reason takes sharper frame
there are so many questions and evident half truths
So outside the window you analyze the grey

and see the curves and spirals
and everything physical becomes an illusion
people and things become props
and life becomes a play
soon enough you reach a point of high epiphany
becoming clairvoyant, pictures and sounds transmitted along the web
the web that connects us all
and temples you see, many sailing in boats
Slaves and Masters, Kings and Councils
and Earth becomes a mirror of everything the verses unison

You deviate from prose and read the poem
a song starts to play and your mind begins to sail
thinking at high wavelengths
what is chaos here, is a planned order up there
and you transcend from dimension to dimension
picking up thoughts, incarnating as a walk in on other realms
taking part in Strategy plans of the Universe
you have a chair in the Federation
all races meet talking about their human and hybrid children

You learn that out there is not too different to in here
there are Spaceships and exhibitions
Aerial restaurants
Cosmic *** in a theatrical sense
the end point being the creation of worlds in voids - worlds absent
And you learn that there are Watchers, they are watching us
Learning about us, taking notes and samples
Sometimes they send telepathic messages
Sometimes they video-mix our dreams
Other times they take you travelling
From Egypt to Mars, From Mars to Konder, Konder to Lyra and back
at this point chaos down here, is a planned order up there
perfection becomes ridiculous as you see evil conducted
Mountains and vortex points, tiny dots on the screens of planet-ships

You wake up and you don't feel quite the same
You can sense vibes of having been through wormholes
Time linear starts all over again
you have to constantly remind yourself of where you are
One thing remains: the memory and They, that They are here and They are watching.