Dreamlogue

It was a long path to fighting myself,
and I started as three:
my beauty, my id, and my reality.
Someone else is providing my training;
I suppose he is the truth
who exists far beyond all others
mistakably held in this life.
This mentor dissolves into my being
as if my being ever existed
on such a microscopic scale.
My reality is my vessel
through which I see, think, and feel,
and my beauty and id are two separate entities
existing in their own bodies.
I have quite obviously befriended my id,
and it must have been long ago,
but our comradery has no origins;
he may have been my sight at one time,
but now he stands beside me, smiling.
Simultaneously, I am throwing punches at the other one;
that gorgeous being of near-perfection.
I despise her with every ounce of my own existence,
and somehow the roots of this hatred are strong,
so we circle each other in a ring of familiar forms,
fists are thrown and landed,
and after easily defeating her,
I feel unbelievably strong,
especially in my wounds and scars.
The ring disappears and I stand alone,
so I decide to start running;
fatigue can no longer endure.
My legs carry me through an urban sprawl
to a wall that attempts to contain me,
but my body keeps moving forward,
and I sprint through the air to the top of the barrier.
A simple realization occurs to me
as I stand overlooking thirty yards of trees deceased
and see flowing water and greens beyond:
there is someone on my heels full of anger and doubt.
My eyes remain fixed on the wonders of nature ahead
and I leap over death in order to float down to life,
and my shadow is gone.
This is a forest, a garden, a river of neutrality,
of tranquility, harmony and peace,
but my comfort is not complete
and I blink,
opening my eyes to a satiated metropolitan,
my body in a sprint.
Two blocks ahead, I see beauty turning the corner,
and I know I am chasing her.
She is no match for my speed,
but uses many evasive maneuvers
through buildings, parks, and crowded markets.
Two rusty motorbikes are parked nearby
and I jump on the red
as she speeds off on the green,
but I don't know how to start the motor;
she tauntingly turns back and I push my bike into hers,
stealing back the advantage of being on foot.
Oddly enough, we begin walking together,
sacrificing our own personal information
for some from the other
until the being of id decides to join the stroll
and attempts to seduce her with clever conversation.
Her response is expected, yet disappointing
as she hastens away from our company,
and I feel an unprecedented love for her.
It then occurs to me why we were running,
and my id disappears, never to return;
I wasn't chasing my beauty,
we were and are running to the same place:
a room of simplicity for one final bout.
She is already waiting for me upon my arrival
and familiar faces fill the room,
offering both of us one last meal before the fight.
Our responses are identical and delivered in unison:
green tea and pretzels,
a meal we appreciate but can't remember consuming.
And so the battle commences,
negative feelings extinct and onlookers fading;
the bout becomes a dance of acceptance
and I finish as one and all.
I know Enlightenment is not far;
reality has fused with beauty;
the entire world is a forest, garden, and river,
and that life is me.