Nestled snugly, unbeknownst to anything, world is what I make believe is real.
Chaotic disconnectedness resonates here in my serene little sheet-tent, pitched between my knees, fortress amidst this gentle mountain valley of half-life. I alone decide which peak to conquer and when to climb into the storm I will name “Today.”
From blissful nothingness it is a hard sell every time a second passes though, I’ve lost another way to show this day who’s boss. Do I awaken now or pay the cost. Roll away or let my stones grow moss?
Dreams and reality connect fibrously through thin synapse
only exist in our minds
both uncontrollable illusions, experiments run amok
Reality is, we ‘know,’ objectively shared experience.
Perception varies so wildly though, it seems
our ‘real’ lives are just waking dreams.
Each insisting we, alone, hold the sacred piece from which we can constitute the ‘whole truth.’
our feelings guide our actions
Our actions dictate our reality
Reality inspires the dream
And dream founds the basis for what we feel.
dreams, free will
each a spoke turning the wheel
renewing eternal birth
the gears of Earth.