Thought

Thought(Patrick McGoey) The hidden thought cries down in the deep, amongst it's brothers in slumber and sleep.
My life to no avail, a parade of imagination, with a lie shackling hands, that in life could create.
To climb out from the depths of hell. To sing, to dance, to ring the bell. Existence in voice, where all could hear, I am that I am, and I am here.

Emotion will sweep, as the wave to land. And bring forth the good out from the bad.
The trial will be held, the judgment swift, the executioners blade, with a smile will not miss.
The thought will retreat, will not fight today. It will hold onto hope of another way.
Behind Mother's dress, it hides desolation, and cries out someday, I will crown myself King.

The patterns are mixed of old into new. The thought grabs a hold of one that is used.
To act on the body, the soul of mankind, to travel unfettered into the land.
Where nothing is ordered, no one disdained. The corruption of life is wild and untamed.
I will not be denied, from you or your kind, I am that I am, and I am alive.

Mother sees the child in distress, she understands the call of the quest.
The thought is born, out of her womb, to tiddle and toddle, and find the tune,
of the symphonies players, the givers the takers, the mind bending howl of the wolves in their sheepskins,
to eat up the time, the spaces and rests, leaving the bones so deeply in death.

The hidden message is no more. Brothers and Sisters still adore,
the life on limb, the cat on the fence, the chance to jump ship, become the offense.
Yes, the battle has ended, the war just begun.
A thought is a thought, until it has won.