Mind

-The question whispers its monosyllabic presence, an inaudible sound, but it is there. In the night I enter my dreams as the armed poet who can turn the tides of emotion within a heart, but at sunrise my ability is latent, weakened, and the relentlessness of words is a truth only held in my mind. I float through life with that dreamy look of desperation or the frightened look of fatigue and there is in the genesis of my soul, that, unresolved conflict of self.
I build a tower to words and of words and end up wrapped in a tongue twisted mind. I gaze up at what gazes down at me and become the two. How can I be the knower and what is known. Knowledge is not in its own awareness, it stands outside of itself as knowledge, and so too, I stand outside of myself and of my awareness and knowledge is then only a capricious attempt at understanding, which ultimately fails me when I perceive it as an awareness of its own awareness. Knowledge is like the words of the tower, which collapse without understanding, when left with only awareness.