A mountain seems to float above
The temperatures that ripple Earth below it
Layers give the senses a shove
You're being crippled and you know it
.
Shadows stand behind breaks in light
Cookie-cutting reality, alit
Eclipses are just another sight
From the way you chose to run from it
.
Delusions are refusions
And naïveté replete
With the promise of illusions
That pulls rugs from under feet
.
A straight oar looks bent in water
Stars falsely twinkle through the air
You think you can mold a son or daughter
To remain with you, but won't be there
About the Creator
Gerard DiLeo
Retired, not tired. Hippocampus, behave!
Make me rich! https://www.amazon.com/Gerard-DiLeo/e/B00JE6LL2W/
My substrack at https://substack.com/@drdileo
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Comments (2)
The poem creates a striking image of the precarious balance that exists between our delusions and the brutal truth that awakens.
Our delusions are as monochromic as Daguerreotypes: ideals frozen in silver iodide and as mercurial as the vapor that develops them. Turn on the lights and what you're left with is harsh, brilliantly illuminated reality.