we knock upon your door.
we bring baskets of words.
the gifts lay unopened.
the thoughts remain covered.
you have your own reality.
a reality of matter.
a dream so real.
that you remain asleep.
you cry, I am awake!.
who is this you, that shouts?.
It is the dreamed.
the thought, that demands royalty.
sleep on!, dear dreamer.
you will awaken when the pain of illusion,
becomes too dear..... dreamer!
.... namaste, thomas
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