Illusion

Out of all the thoughts I have,

Arises a feeling I don't understand.

Keeping me at bay - at the congenial end

Of hope, passion and misguidance.

I know not the convolutions that make it happen,

But realise every memory's stance.

But I know not to keep it in fence,

Every fragment of my mind shrieks in dissonance.

Sometimes the rumble of thunder in a meadow,

Sometimes the endless silence that grows,

Haunts me into this distraught lore,

Of fallen respects and shamelessness galore.

But 'tis all an encounter of chance?

That steals me away from myself at every glance,

My legs, my roots, my finance -

And skips me from trance to trance.

What should I care?

What does it matter?

In a sky of endless stars -

My thoughts are a mere scatter!

A scatter that few care of,

A scatter that cares for a few;

Lost in its own words,

Somewhere between the old and the new.

And so I am awake, always in confusion -

On a forked road, always with decisions;

Sense is fading away into a delusion,

And what reflects is my own illusion.

My thoughts never end but the night would,

Time doesn't hold meaning, but existence should;

But if ages since I have lone stood,

Why must I complain now?

When the fruits are ripe and the harvest good!