Kafkaesque
From that synthetic blossom
Emanate both a swirling silence
And a timeless illusion
Embedded in rustic profusion.
Yet a timeless blossom
To a rustic mind
Signifies no swirling illusion
But from it emerge and emanate
The opposite of a synthetic silence
On this planet timeless we are not
Unless our planet is a synthetic illusion
Leaving our minds swirling
And lost in rustic confusion
From which will emanate
A blossom to stun us into silence
That shock will plunge us into a timeless void
When silence surrounds illusion
In a synthetic world where minds no longer blossom
Spiralling into a swirling rustic state
From which nothing can emanate
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