'There must be some way out of here/said the joker to the thief' - Bob Dylan
¦A fall from a graceful escape?¦
¦Or a reintroduction to the true delusion?¦
The world that grew old?
Or the world we slit the throat of, devoured the life-blood of, and whose colour we left to seep out and pour into the road of time?
The old world that has been left to fade and writhe in it's dusk and darkness.
Did we form this world, with it's colours and sounds and science,
to take the stead of the one we had raped and savaged until nought was left?
Even so, this illusion could only ever be a husk,
a half-remember fragment, compared to what it may have tried to replace.
If this world is the design of some 'god', what difference does it make, right?
Then are you not curious as to the world that exists outside of this box.
What new colours, senses, experiences that might exist outside of this prison.
Disregard for the chance to explore is the defect that makes a human truly blind.
So if this world is an illusion, what of us, what of me? How do I know I exist?
I know I am no phigment of some genius bastard's psyche,
or a product of some playground built by 'gods' to entertain them for the rest of forever.
If this truth is THE truth, then I know that I exist, whether here, or in some other verse, and this is only My mind, dreaming.
This is not to say that you are false, only that I am real.
In essence - I see the world through these eyes, so I can trust these eyes, but they are all I can trust.
Were built to think they were real.
To see only under the waters of this deception.
Were built like your eyes in the dream.
If we are never truly born, but programmed to exist, deteriorate, and fade,
then what hope do I have in waking from this dream?
A friend of mine just tried to kill himself. We've said he's a little insane for a long time
Maybe he tried to die as an escape from the dream. At least he's looking for the exit.
Maybe he's the only sane one.
How will we know, for as long as we are submerged in the dream, the sea is all there is.
¦Waking from a dream, what do we wake to?¦
¦The truth, or simply another illusion?¦
A mirage designed by something, someone, them, you, me, or us
to escape the world we grew tired of?The world that grew old?
Or the world we slit the throat of, devoured the life-blood of, and whose colour we left to seep out and pour into the road of time?
The old world that has been left to fade and writhe in it's dusk and darkness.
Did we form this world, with it's colours and sounds and science,
to take the stead of the one we had raped and savaged until nought was left?
Even so, this illusion could only ever be a husk,
a half-remember fragment, compared to what it may have tried to replace.
If this world is the design of some 'god', what difference does it make, right?
Then are you not curious as to the world that exists outside of this box.
What new colours, senses, experiences that might exist outside of this prison.
Disregard for the chance to explore is the defect that makes a human truly blind.
So if this world is an illusion, what of us, what of me? How do I know I exist?
'Cogito ergo sum - I think, therefore I am.' - Descartes
If I believe that, then I know I am alive,I know I am no phigment of some genius bastard's psyche,
or a product of some playground built by 'gods' to entertain them for the rest of forever.
If this truth is THE truth, then I know that I exist, whether here, or in some other verse, and this is only My mind, dreaming.
This is not to say that you are false, only that I am real.
In essence - I see the world through these eyes, so I can trust these eyes, but they are all I can trust.
But what if these eyes were built to perceive only the illusion.
Were built to think they were real.
To see only under the waters of this deception.
Were built like your eyes in the dream.
If we are never truly born, but programmed to exist, deteriorate, and fade,
then what hope do I have in waking from this dream?
Will I ever transcend all that I am here, and take back myself in reality? In paradise?
Or simply diffuse into the 1s and 0s that compose the universe;
and see all that defines me dissolve back into the Sea of the dream.A friend of mine just tried to kill himself. We've said he's a little insane for a long time
Maybe he tried to die as an escape from the dream. At least he's looking for the exit.
Maybe he's the only sane one.
How will we know, for as long as we are submerged in the dream, the sea is all there is.
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