A Dream I Dream That I Dream

In this dream I dream that I dream, all is not exactly as it seems. Though the time comes and goes, there are just some things we'll never know. Though I move to where I am to be, sometimes I do not feel like me. It must then appear, as it seems, a dream I dream that I dream. It must be.

Though my presence means to be sane, all I sense is that I am lame. I do not disturb the craziest of man, but myself is who I am. Nor shall I be this or that, but only an image of me in this dream I dream that I dream which yearns to be.

And entwined in these weak, ever so fragile, dreams I dream, lies the one thing that actually matters. But if I dare to even spatter a whisper, my desire shall shatter. So trapped in a box it appears, but that does not exclude my fear. But it is within a box, so what's the purpose? Me, thy self, myself, the only me, does not know. But that is fine because time comes and goes in this dream I dream that I dream.

Though a voice men have! But thy self, what do I contain? Perhaps the remains of unknown evolution, or maybe a song of a chime. This, indeed, has changed within time, so what does that leave me with? A pencil to scribble down a cheap rhyme? All exist, manifests fully, to be unknown. However, evolution changed. Our resolution will too. But that is fine, because time comes and goes in this dream I dream that I dream.