Grand Illusion

by Jonas Mather

Away, I say,
Begone false memory
Colored by subconscious yearning.
It was never that way,
Nor this way,
Or anyway at all.
Conceived by faulty engrams
In tissue rotted by time.
Let it be as you say.
If just for today.

Time does not exist,
Therefore there is no death.
Does it then follow
That there is no life?
Faulty logic, false premise,
Meaningless words,
Cobbled by a drunken shoemaker
Who masks as a craftsman
And is truly the fool.
Does anything make sense?
Don't ask him.
He is sure he knows.
Therefore he knows not.

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Copyright © 1999 by Jonas Mather
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