The Blank Portrait, Filled a Thousand Times

In a momentary collapse of subconscious I reveal my true colors
These colors, shine so bright to illuminate the path I take
To unmask my perception, to completely remake
Now unraveled, showing my past self as fake
I have tried so hard for so long
Keeping thoughts I believed to be wrong
But now that nothing is right
Would such fallacies spark fright?

One may suppose:

I am nothingness
A matter of proportion that is meaningless
A proportion of particles that are thoughtless
Within each particle lies a star
And a soul, though it seems bizarre
Everytime I close my eyes I imagine a million more
Do I breathe life to them, if so whatever for?
Does that make me god?
I control the fate of an imponderable supply of existence
Clinging to the providence my wellbeing’s persistence

The second I die these souls will shed a trillion tears
The second I die will be last for a hundred thousand years
And when it’s over I’ll be lifeless in the ground
Then the stars will take new forms at the speed of sound
My molecules might join some more to form a tree
Then I will live in the woods, calm, collect and carefree

The cycle of reborn goes round and round
Via blood, air and underneath the ground

Life is a blank portrait
A treeless orchard
An endless depression
Your soul possession