I’ve come to the conclusion
That the whole world is an illusion.
What is the deal?
The script written in our minds,
All the wonders you will find,
Perhaps none of it’s real.
The ground, the sky, the entire world,
It all seems like a massive swirl.
The trees, the sun, rivers, and grass,
The glimmering stream,
It was only a dream,
Even that bird who you just saw pass.
The people, bustling about the streets,
Only in your dreams do you truly meet.
Who is this person that you call friend?
They too , do not exist,
It does seem odd to think like this.
I wonder if the imagination has an end.
In front of our eyes is the landscape,
But only in our heads does it actually take shape.
The mind is strange
The world, just a figment of our imagination,
Simply a neurological creation,
But nothing will ever change
An illusion, the world may be,
But that does not mean you have to stop the discovery.
Autumn 