These magnificent strings,
This mystifying crecendo,
Those marvelous violins,
That majestic piano.

These thunderous steps,
This thickening blow,
Those tasteful melodies,
That triumphant withdrawal.

These slippery slides,
This shattering baroque,
Those starlit orchestras,
That shadowy observer.

These are my thoughts,
This is what it is like,
Those that stare blindly,
That question my mind.

These are my days,
This is a collection of my thoughts,
Those that wish me ill,
That question my mind.

These are my eyes,
This is what I see everyday,
Those that wish to see,
That same way that I do see.

Now you have your glimpse.

i like the 'these this those that', we can sum up alot that way.

Thank you for your compliment.

We can sum up even more if we reflect on the past and compare it to the present, shame so few do this anymore.

I think you're my number one fan, bastet, haha. Thanks again for the comment.

it is the fault of an old man who forgets what it was like to be small... or something along those lines :P i have no problem in the world being a #1 fan, write on!!

Vivid imagery, or rather audio-imagery, a symphony playing in your head. Wonderful as always

Thank you, Rhea. Symphony of thoughts, millions of little things working together to create what is my mind. Like a clock with gears to shift the hands of time.

Cheers, kc! Much appreciated.