(x = space)
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Illusion or Reality
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Do we know illusion
The things out of the corners
Of our eyes
I see my cat
From time to time
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But an actual illusion
Actual
Something we sense
That isn’t there
It might shape
For our senses
But really
Is a thinking
And misthinking
Of our minds
And hearts
Misallied
In the moment
Or maybe all the time
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Have we seen some things
That are not there
How does this match
With illusions
In our attitudes
Beliefs
And minds toward things
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The illusion is for fun
Mismanaging our thoughts
Is something else
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And now reality
Which is something
As it is
Material
No argument
About it
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The rock is real
Our eyesight
When it’s measured
The Earth is real
When we stand upon it
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Yet there’s the question
Real or illusive
Do we have the handle
Are we confident
With our machines
Even machine
Logic
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In a relativistic age
It’s hard
Sometimes
To tell
Though it’s our invention
For an age
To twist ourselves
Maybe by people
Who make money from it
Or harbor an illusion
(hah)
For power
An abstract
Made of will
Always another
Added to our own
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We could be superheroes
Cape or helmet
But then
That is illusion
For
Yes
Our entertainment
Though there is inspiration
Too
In these images
And faultless actions
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Hmm
A reason for illusion
To prop up
Even to help direct
Reality
Remove the versus
Then
Consider
Allied with
Even for fuller comprehension
Even for fuller life
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In the air
Through the barriers
Who is that
It’s us
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something for Friday
something pre-Hallowe’en
for when you are
we are
midnight persons
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and now
something about midnight
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Late at Night, You Know
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Midnight
It isn’t really midnight
Three o’clock is midnight
Which might be why
He had bad things happen
At 3:15
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Midnight for stories
Nonetheless
And a witching hour
Whose story we might not
Really know
What were the practices
Done in an hour
If that
Or more
Or longer
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Midnight and shadows
Where are the shadows
In the night
Well
With the moonlight
Or our
Artificial arrangements
Against total darkness
‘til the dawn
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So there are shadows
There are shapes as well
Of new dimensions
Taller
Without features
For a face
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Except we know that one is there
Something devilish
Autonomic
Human
Is there
And we shall know too late
If there’s identity
After the action
Or is stands there
A small tower
Over us
‘Til we have the fortitude
To move away
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Shall there be ghosts
And shall there be story
For us to set down
Until dawn
Or share from what we know
And what we don’t
For comfort
Or for titillation
Until dawn
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We should remain
Keep our souls inside
It might be just a story
Or a real thing
Inside
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C L Couch
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Photo by Nika Benedictova on Unsplash
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