Listening to thoughts is the highway to madness.

Voices of lore,
Verses of sadness.
Internal emotion that drives of your mind,
The call of the primal,
Halls of my might.

There is no real voicing,
There is no such sight.
It's all an emotion,
It's a thought or a fright.
Caressing me softly, luring away.
The joy of returning to the primal of ways.

At last it is bonding with its saddening lily way,
At last it is giving the promised,
The truths of our ways.

Holding me softly,
Holding me tight.
It won't let me go,
It won't let my mind.
Yet content I am with this struggle of mine,
It is enjoyment,
The tasting of life.