Realms

Illusions are strange fates
We bring them upon ourselves.
Waiting for the morbid dates
A vicious race to be upheld.

We entertain these notions
That make us seem so blind.
We tell them all the motions
As if peace is easy to find.

Wrap ourselves in thin paper,
Top it off with a flashy bow.
But when the rage can't be tapered
We're surprised we're torn so slow.

It never existed. It never mattered.
The air and the wind and the sun.
Into the breeze, my ashes, scattered
Maybe now I'll finally have fun.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am wondering how much fun we might have in the next life...guess it depends.
My ashes will be swimming in a beautiful pond...that is going to happen.
Maybe some of our illusions will come through.
j.

[LisaCarol]

This writing reminded me we create our own realities. Very thought provoking and profound as to where it our realties take us. Thanks for sharing your writing.