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Amnesia “It’s A Dream”
riding on the theta waves
isochronic tones composed to flow remotely
huddle close to pulse within our sleeping brains
frequencies so low
that they can barely ghost our conscious minds
while deep into the clay they mine
to scope out our unseen designs
remind us of the astral plane
and captivate the inner child
that raptures at the riverside
make dash to see revivified
the stature one time dignified
solidify its standing
learn to seek a deeper understanding
see the earth withstanding
every weighted burden bore
and have a hand in furthering explore
heretofore aligned to soar
above the clouds
to the door in the floor
overlaying
underscoring
au fait with each deep outporing
shoring up the senses
with the scaffold of enlighten
to see them leap the fence in fever heightened
five become ten
as the theta waves bend
to extend our receptors
sequentially stretch them
undress from the vesture
the essence sequestered
to go for broke zoning
unspoken investment
releasing potential
to deepen credential
the easel
to sketch with an infinite stencil
to trace each vein
to whence it came
and see no frame
to hamper
to reel off ways
of breaking chains
to ride upon the theta waves
reawaken sleeping brains
to ceaseless plains
full canter
Richard Charles Stevens
Keeper of The Crimson Quill
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