Everyday worlds come into existence in my head, by my hand. Everyday they evolve, some die, some expand. Everyday I wonder if all my thoughts are actually reality, and yet the answer is probably impossible for me to know in my sanity.
I have seen swirling galaxies collapse, the end of time, places with no breath. Skies of unimaginable beauty, and blades of unimaginable cruelty. Sometimes I am the creator, yet other times I am merely an observer.
I don't know what is real. Infinities collapse into a singularity and spring back out with something new to reveal.
Dreams is all they seem to be, but am I just a vision to a dreamer like me?
I have seen swirling galaxies collapse, the end of time, places with no breath. Skies of unimaginable beauty, and blades of unimaginable cruelty. Sometimes I am the creator, yet other times I am merely an observer.
I don't know what is real. Infinities collapse into a singularity and spring back out with something new to reveal.
Dreams is all they seem to be, but am I just a vision to a dreamer like me?
