Delusion

All are lunatics, but he who analyses his delusion is called a philosopher.” Ambrose Bierce Delusion In youthful days some may conceive The world to be a bed of rose, But very soon one does perceive That it`s dull, dreary and morose. In prime of youthful days, some dream Of the brotherhood of all man, But anon, one is forced to stream In a rat race to oust one`s own friends. In days of youth, some envision A world where flags of peace flap high, But soon one`s wrapped with delusion With wars wrecking men`s lives with sigh. In midst of youth, some may hanker For those at the helm of the state To have clean minds, free from blunders, And well manage a country`s fate. Yet when glaring truth comes to light, Truth that` s often hard to digest, It obliterates one`s delight And gives rise to ripples of stress. In youth some yearn the world to change, Uplift moral values of man, Render the earth less and less strange Ward off folks from sinking in dens. Yet when stinking reality Spears aloft its venomous head, One may be appalled verily And wish the world to wane instead. Most youths on reaching manhood stage Come to grips with reality, But a few still cling to dream phase And are blown by fatality. Such souls shine in realms of their own, Realms of pure imagination By themselves fostered, sown and grown, A realm of real delusion. It is a realm of fantasy Where the weavers perceive features That don`t hang in actuality, But are their own in-built creatures. Such delusion disrupts their life, Limits scope to fend for themselves, Renders living a real strife For close of kin and their own self. Souls afflicted with delusions, Dwelling in their own illusions Merit kind consideration And from all men true compassion.