My hope diminishes as I comprehend the Illusion

It is massive, tedious, and utterly aimless

Beyond it there is nothing

Nothing but a wide barren plain

There is no road, there is no aspiration

Nothing but the dry expanse of the Waste

They imagine reason and justification

They march off into the distance

Then along the horizon, something appears

There are cold desolate mountains

And there is a systematic metropolis

The wanderers try to reason

But they merely continue wandering

They pretend the Mirage is real

But in reality it is utterly pathless.