When subconscious comes to the surface
The world becomes naked
With its kindness and grief
With hate and love and crystal light
With stereotypes that clack the heels
With chaos splitting in the head
And clear wind that brings the dead.
The float surface of an earthy soul
That looks for key.
The double faced of multiworld
Can face each other in a dream.
And may be somewhere in a dream
You find a passage in hills
That wave the ending of the dream.
Resistance and doubt make very good conversation
That drives logic and that floats imagination.
The world slips and splits to pieces when mind becomes fragile. You look at art as an answer and cure that fills the space and heals the mind. But time as the enemy continues to stretch and modify the mind as memory is a fundamental composition of every trauma.