Permanent Self

When the rain falls
under the shining lights.
When the tree shakes
on exchanges of smiles.

When our eyes closed
and the feelings grow.
Maybe these days are
nothing but a dream.


..................................

While I was supposed to let my ears pick up the readings I get by watching the lips, the thought that perhaps these very lengthy days could very well be just a dream. Like when you sleep for a couple of hours, but you developed multiple events that would normally stretch to days. It could possibly be that we are in a very comforting position, and our minds decided to take off. Wandering around the lines, building the seconds.

And at the end of it all, the sound breaks in and we no longer exist as we were in it. I would probably be an obnoxious cow lamenting on the absence of cosmetic shit, or I am the persona I have always been dreaming of in the dream.

This could be a case of lethargy. Or my head can no longer pursue the greater thoughts. Or I am giving up, hence the idea that this life is not real and temporary. Though that line does make sense as life is temporary.

But with that, what is permanent?

Not feelings, builds, faces.

What is permanent for me to hold on to?
What is permanent for me to remind myself of?
What is permanent for me to feel safe?
What is permanent for me to exist?