Thine Own Self Poem by Riano Harp

'To Thine Own Self Be True'
Though, Polonius, I must pose;
Who am I but a pallet,
A pallet of sound;
Where upon all colours reside on the palate,
Waiting for the painters duty
(Though some drip and stain) .
I am no more than a myriad of voices
Embellished within a vortex of mirages
Glossed by mirrors;
Stars twinkle within my throat
And souls hide within the chambers of space,
Deeply rooted within true reason
Of thine own self;
Where flesh saunters
And melts with breath,
Such discovery is futile-
Though we're unable to disagree
Doesn't make it true,
As with that statement;
Now the scope ascends,
Ascends beyond the sight of man
And now, and now...
I realise there is no truth
For no lies can hold company
To what sustains these thoughts;
All but words,
Actions do not suffice
And I am still searching
For Thine Own Self