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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