Do you ever feel like you don’t exist
Caught in a daydream of invisible fantasy
Lost in a moment
An alternate being dreaming our reality
Forever embraced by a dream.
We claim to be who we say we are
Yet does anyone else recognize us
Or the fables we’ve woven
With the thread of perception
We sow what we choose.
Does our mind distinguish
The tangible from the intangibles
Through subjective glasses
Do we presume our limits?
Am I here by choice?
How do we compare black and white
When black is not a colour
It simply absorbs all and reflects none
A synonym for death to consciousness
Whilst white is all colour; each and every one.
We let ourselves be limited
With our senses as we choose what we see.
Sought control over mystery and placed
The unknown in Pandora’s Box unknowingly.
Why must these thoughts be censored
Others around greet these questions
With puzzled faces, unsettled in their sorrow
Captured by the now
Forever to remain muted for tomorrow.
Perhaps we don’t exist.
Perhaps, we are but a figment of your
Myriad of a reality
Kissed by dogmas, composed of light
Cleansed through time
Until eternity is divine?
The answer is written in your vision
The story you choose to see
Maybe everything means nothing
But maybe, the world and every answer depends
On who you choose to be.
– L. F. Cramer