Stamped.

He speaks volumes,

Of each facet,

Unexplored,

Unexplained,

Leaving just a window,

Slightly ajar,

I take a peek,

My mind alive; anew,

I am led...amazed,

Mesmerized, allured,

Into the dungeons of time,

And space,

Awake, aware,

Stumbling into the unknown,

Willing, Wanting,

Unfaltering,

Each sense heightened,

Each thought processed,

In awe,

Of life and what we choose to make of it.

His voice clear,

Unwavering,

Pushes me,

To plunge to the depths,

I dint think existed,

Only to rise again,

To the heights,

I never dreamed possible.

And in the intricacies of the rise and fall,

I hear my thoughts,

All my own,

Not stamped by approval;

Not colored by upbringing;

Not falsified by love;

Not pressured by circumstance;

Distinct in its birth,

As perhaps, 

In its death,

Leaving me alive,

In its wake.