Soliloquy, Oh Soliloquy

Soliloquy, oh Soliloquy what voice rings in my mind and is it my thoughts to be.

What simple breath gave ideas life and memories reason?

Is it light, darkness, life, death, pleasure, pain!?

Or is it a burning flare which incase the flowing random cause,

like some wave of a magic wand that pushes ideas and thoughts into being.

No, no that can be. For good and evil does not bloom simply with dirt but

is fed with water day and night. 

And neither can it form the crystal bud without the tending of a hand.

For who is the tending hand of good and who is that hand that crafts evil,

for even my heart knowth not of the surety of peace of mind in this.

For how can it, the heart only knowth the mind as a thing of logic, and the mind

see the heart as emotion, or one's true self.

As for the soul, and spirt both, believes thing of both the heart and of the mind, 

and is it the true essence of one's ture self and is the founder of ideas.

I have no true surety of that which is or not, but this I do know that both kindles the fire 

of life.

For impressions of mind, heart, soul must be of a greater nurture, then why do I have 

them for I'm no great one in renown in my eyes.

For all great ones of evil and good  have had them, and by what power, do they set their

strength of their resolve so high. For in truth I don't know but hope is one's high steed

which I shall ride into the clouds of uncertainty.