Jesse Lea

What is it that we keep? Those taunted dreams of mine. Those down deep that surround my mind. That change time and compounds every atom, they are so sublime. To make me reflect on times line and changing times. Those dreams so deep inside, I can not rewind. Once given, and always slight, those messages that whisper in the night. So slight I must listen and train my mind. What is it that I keep? Those images so hard to see. Trapped within the folium of my minds msytic. Those that pass by, as if they never happened in my sleep. To slight to keep, and to contrite to have been real to me. Murmurs, words of answers told, to quiet to be heard. And as I lay my head to rest, I try to listen to what they ask of me. Unknowning of thier origin, no answer I can speak. Yet I wonder this, as I do sleep, the mysteries they do keep.