The last time I noticed I was alone,
the jester yawned beside the throne.


Then wisdom drained in pouring rain, the kind that causes peculiar pain.
I closed my eyes and dreamed a dream
that gravity had changed its mind
and threw the ones who strive to fly into the freedom of the sky.

But...
those who chained themselves to gods,
some made of words and gold,
were fastened closely to the ground by pride and all they chose to hold.
Then all the thoughts and actions built around my shadow like a tomb,
began to sing a humble song, like voices from a patient womb.

So here I'll stand and wait in wonder as the voices still persist,
until the time will come when I can understand how to exist .