What in the hell is reality,

Electrical signals in the brain?

Or is it a confluence of matter and energy?

All aboard the spacetime train.

When I touch your face is it just atoms?

Or are you more than the sum of your parts?

When we’re separated by miles this anxiety,

Is it just serotonin and epinephrine charts?

This longing for a purpose in life,

Can it be attributed to evolution?

A psyche designed to seek patterns everywhere,

Even in death, destruction and convolution.

What is sadness my dear friend?

A lack of dopamine in my head?

These feelings ain’t logical you say,

When I say I’d be better off dead.

Love and friendship can be explained,

With oxytocin being the culprit.

This feeling of self sacrifice for a molecule,

Is it truly worth it?

The brain is a wondrous organ, is true.

Computing this and measuring that.

But the feelings generated in it,

That’s where reality is at.

Dark trampling, sudden shudder,

Turn to look over my shoulder.

No one there, not a soul.

Silent whisper in the air,

Makes me think there are people there.

Miles of road, miles of road.

Rapid gait, uncomfortable urge,

The road begins to diverge.

A lovely path, a meadow dark.

Lonely me, a timid soul.

Fear that I can’t control.

I shall pass the meadow dark.

Footsteps, is it a friend?

But there’s no one ahead.

Visions of dastardly tales.

Pick up the pace, go faster.

It begins to grow darker.

No moon in the sky.

Sudden shift in peripheral vision,

Turn around to see a demon.

Dreaded clothes, gun in hand.

So ends my tiny tale.

Got so far just to fail.

See the face of the woman I killed.

Policeman takes the shot, I’m felled.

Sometimes, somewhere, out of sight

Without rhyme or reason.

I walk by myself in the fading light,

Pondering the changes of the season.

I marvel at the beauty of this cycle.

Oh cynical me is shattered.

Witness to this pan galactic miracle,

All black thoughts are scattered.

I struggle to find the words,

Nuances and gestures to say.

Do these expressions even exist?

Or shall I invent them this day?

A wobbly moon, drunk on splendor.

Stumbling across the sky.

The stars so stunningly stratospheric,

Reflected in your blue eye.

The Pleiades seven shimmering sisters,

Staring straight through me.

Andromeda painted with bright colours,

Fills my heart with glee.

But then the magic spell is broken,

And I see what things truly are.

A pale blue speck of dust our planet,

Circling a small orange star.

And on this tiny speck, we humans,

Have drawn imaginary lines.

The blood spilled for them is real,

So are the broken spines.

This war for what and whom we wage?

Our master on the throne?

Or is it some unrecognisable monster,

Who we think of as our own.

Then another spell is cast,

Do you know what I see?

These lines erased, this bloodshed stopped,

The whole planet, one country.

But alas I know the truth too well,

That day will come to pass.

But I won’t be here to see it,

I’ll be beneath the grass.

Till then fight your wars oppressors,

Enjoy your tiny victories.

In the end it’s I who’ll win,

For now do as you please.

Remember this though cruel tyrant,

History does not forget.

Your names will be the greatest curses,

Your works seen with regret.

One day banjara’s words will rise,

And tear down this facade.

The seasons will once again sing,

From the lips of another bard.

Walking alone through life’s meandering path.

“Imposter, imposter” I hear them cry.

This fame, name, recognition, all,

cannot assuage me of the fear deep inside.

I am worthless,

less than a dog howling at unseen fabrications.

I am worthless, truly.

Perhaps it is chance and simple minded folks that have led me here.

Through no talent of my own has come my fame and renown.

“Ignorant fool” they say behind my back,

“Worthless coward” is another my mind imagines.

This dark, melancholic brooding departs me not.

“Imposter, imposter” I hear them cry.

So far have I come, so much that I’ve done,

all guided by lady luck’s charming arm.

The simple minded are taken in,

but, the people, they see who I truly am

Why else would they talk about me behind my back?

One slip up, one misstep and all this comes crashing down.

This façade built on meaningless words and tired rhymes.

This name of mine chanted by mobs,

will soon turn into a curse.

This fame of mine will vanish with a word.

And all that will remain will be I,

Alone, friendless, a fallacy of thought

Why did you not tell us? They’ll say

It was not your hand but fate’s that did this.

What will I say that day I wonder?

When all this comes falling down.

But today is not that day.

Today I sit in the warm embrace of fate,

and all is well today. Except

“Imposter, imposter” I hear them cry.

I try to gaze away

it pulls my eyes back.

Each and every day

all I see is black.

I use my indomitable will

and shift my eyes around.

Until the merest glimpse

of a new view is found.

It slides back into focus

once again ahead,

the view is gone from sight

filling me with dread.

That momentary vision

of something else new

fills my heart with joy

no more am i blue.

This infernal game I play,

the house always wins,

the highs the lows the tears and pain,

the courage of the brave and the sinner’s sins.

All my friends are dead.

They talk through their art.

They tell me how they felt,

when we were centuries apart.

They were there before me.

I wont be the last.

To see the void cloud my vision,

to feel helpless, alone, aghast.

the gods are uncaring,

the sages full of lies.

Scholars bitter and cynical,

the flag of hatred flies.

Somewhere, someone will feel the same

and say or paint or write.

The abyss will momentarily fade,

a new view will come in sight.