Counterintuitive

It's late, lo. I knew that the water I saw was mirage. This is a world where, often, facts and fancies camouflage Depths that seem unfathomable are shallow when measured. Within wombs of tombs that seem empty, riches are treasured. The structure that looked like a passage was, in truth, a wall. Doesn’t my crammed glance make the earth resemble a ball? How could crows dine guavas at night? Lo, they were mega-bats. Waiting under guava trees, I didn't know, were black cats. Peeping through the brick holes of Kutab Minar, I feel giddy. While I could reach the top, are the stairs now playing kiddy? Each move of being is filled with likes, dislikes, dreads, and fears. Equally in joys and sadness, as though raindrops flow tears Running shoes, highway lanes, sleepless sleep, and suppressing thoughts Each act, as though steering sailboats, becomes threads full of knots. Is this shop I find between this and this bush mere confusion? Aren't facts of truth tested in hot furnaces of illusion?