Poem: Contemplating Creation

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