Of metaphors and spirit animals

 Strange metaphors come forward and morph into who I am
The blocks piled upward
Toward the sense of who I am
What may I become next in your imagination

Am I your muse or you perhaps mine
Who inspired who
Did my spirit animal survive the last ice age
And since hence come out to play

With an appetite for the millenia unfed
Empty underwater lodges the old world dead
The lake surface flat like a joke, a lie nay a deception
So that the desperate would swim

And their bottom halves be dragged under
into the deepest lair
To the core collapse of all ideas
where there they like my thoughts will be digested