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What is Reality


“What is Real”

He’s still in bed, telling his famous tales.

When I open those doors, he’ll grin that grin.

He’ll bid me forward, I’d grip his coattail,

Then he’d rub his chin, his story’d begin:

“It is hard to accept what seems askew,

Sometimes we’ll believe it’s life that mocks us.

We believe illusions to continue

To live in life immortal and ageless.”

From my room I don’t hear his painful cries

He’s still breathing, still healthy and alive.

His life burns out and it’s this I deny

His marker reads: “If Life should mock you, strive.”

We invent our own tales to live blindly

‘Til it’s vague what’s false, what’s reality

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