If Existence Is An Illusion of Reality
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expect fate to pull a pr
Like trees extending and rising,
there's a sameness in our being...
to grow under a nurturing sun
'till we reach our end and begone!
If existence is an illusion of reality,
less thought is given to mortality;
and engaging in song and dance,
who expects fate to pull a prank?
As clouds appear to cover cerulean spaces,
rain is anticipated: our first reaction is fret,
and by freezing smiles, we expect the worst;
why be afraid of something that amazes?
There's no cessation to relentless fear,
and so denial persists to block senses;
what's the true purpose of being here:
to exult ourselves and our ambiance?
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2014
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