Behind the Mastered Mind...

(Edited)

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They are kind of winds that shifts like a storm but some are never bounded by any kind of weather, where they rise with every morning like kings on their own land
They are kind of winds that shifts like a storm but some are never bounded by any kind of weather, some are crowded by delusions when unforeseen chaos has grown unnoticed
They are kind of winds that shifts like a storm but some are never bounded by any kind of weather, some victories soar like an unmeasured and untamed echoes
They are kind of winds that shifts like a storm but some are never bounded by any kind of weather, those moment of grandeur claimed yet some shadows creep close that leaves them tired as they expire…

Dreams are like waves that crashes on the shore still cresting so high until we break even more, they create stories at midnight so grand that you cannot escape from until you wake up
Dreams are like waves that crashes on the shore still cresting so high until we break even more, until new kind of dream, a new kind of passion, a new castle builds into your mind like sand
Dreams are like waves that crashes on the shore still cresting so high until we break even more, tomorrow it flashes even more until disappointment unravels you for better or worse
Dreams are like waves that crashes on the shore still cresting so high until we break even more, each chapter you wanted to listen in patience, you nod and sigh to each reason to fly…

A fire without a master burns bright at night and ends in disaster, they tend to leap without looking and even run away without any kind of firm cause
A fire without a master burns bright at night and ends in disaster, no kind of anchor to become steady, no kind of map to unfold, only made of moments with unshackled laws
A fire without a master burns bright at night and ends in disaster, just kind of glories that they never hold on to, hoping beyond a love that is endless until it is not
A fire without a master burns bright at night and ends in disaster, a promise that lingers but soon forgotten, each kind of impulse is like a ruler with no kind of wisdom to weigh, dancing on the edge of the uncertainties…

To master oneself before madness can start is a noble art, there is a kind of lens through we must see, a mirror of real truth is like a measure to question, to think or to ponder before bouncing
To master oneself before madness can start is a noble art, yet a hand this firm is like voice that is true, to weight what is shallow against what is deeper than every hunger, every longing, every feast
To master oneself before madness can start is a noble art, to pause is a power until you can measure is a might, to rule over impulse is bringing light what is meant to be freed
To master oneself before madness can start is a noble art, so when storm rages, voices run high, hunger are blinding the eye, to ask that moment before you decide, to rule to filter and to master the turmoil is never to lose…

Watchwords:
Who holds the reins, who chooses the ride
Measured intention or reckless desire
It runs where wishes lives without shame
A path carved by reason, is like a voice in the head

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Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..

As and will always be reminding you to dream:

“As you are still the Master of your destiny and the maker of your dreams…”

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