Hypnosis

As my words oscillate, you will feel calm and slowly close your eyes.
You are asleep now.

As I trace myself, outline every thought, the silhouette gets shadowed with an ignorance that never existed. Tracing toes now, remnants of years of toil and drudgery, the forefoot exhibiting lines of variation, of stories learned and unlearned. Flaky feet, fatigued, from the long walks on the roads less traveled, fashioned with soot, invisible footprints of ashen hopes gutted at every milestone. These are my feet.

(Here you walk.)

I trace a home where lives are born, entombed in the eternal hearth, quietly learning their first lessons in life. Such tranquility would never be replicated in the world, no simulation can buy sleep like the gushing waves of a lullaby. This is my womb.

(Here you rest.)

Like the good Samaritan, I trace a flute, where a loving breeze resonates and creates a stirring , a sound heard only at dawn among the chirping of sparrows and a feeling when your face bathes in the first gush of the early morning wind - pristine, pure and fragrant. You are helplessly induced to close your eyes now, like a vulnerable rustic belle in the arms of her seasoned Lochinvar. This is my heart.

(Here you play.)

I trace spiraled thoughts and convoluted desires, all musically and intricately orchestrated to win the rigged treasure hunt of life. All fairy tales are born here and then circumcised at will. It's a visually beautiful place for your senses. Here you gamble and pawn and usurp trophies. Here you win-no matter what! This is my brain.

(Here you die, period.)

Time to wake up.