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