Escape is only a delusion.
Fabric of what was reality
hangs off of our bones
in torn strips,
and wisps,
hinting at who we thought we were.
So quick to compensate.
Born relevant,
but losing pace,
laughing out our sole denial.
So hard to come back into this
each time it comes around.
A solar ritual that only dies at night.
It seems easier
to believe in something
otherworldly
when this world
starts to lose what defined it.
Dissembling with all these
holy visions.
Light at our backs
casts our shadows forward.
Insane only in the minute.
Later we will see
there was nothing we now call
“Sane”.
Slowly turn around
and see,
the changes are only
skin deep.
A mask
over every scene.
We close our eyes
and escape
from these.
Broken and disappointed.
I know,
it’s easy to be one
of the disenchanted
when all the hosts are wearing
all the best expressions.
The party’s getting started.
Just be thankful you’re invited.
Something’s lurking in the shadows
and we’re trying to ignore it.
Moving
seems like a wise choice,
but where
is this world
would be safe?
Close your eyes,
we are in
the lunar ritual
and face
what comes to you.
Travelling
is good medicine
for the soul,
but escape
is only a delusion.
HG – 2022
