The Illusionist

You were a seed planted in my subconscious

nurtured to life

by my need for a means of measuring

what was past and what is present

in each passing second

You

a conniving fabrication

merely a figment of my imagination

neither a passing occurrence to be experienced

a tangible substance to capture the eye

nor a sensation to weep through my veins

You only exist within walls

of my mind

yet your illusion has brought me comfort

when I awake hours before the breaking dawn

You tuck me back into the warmth of my blankets

and whisper songs of sleep into my head

announcing your vacant presence

when I count down the days

until my present becomes my past

You assure me that your hands will soon reach out

and take me there

when I move too quickly through the passing years

You remind me there’s only so much

You can give me

but your intangible existence

has become the walls that bind me

hold me captive

inside the reality of the world in which I perceive

keeping me from seeing life for how it is

timeless

I watch grey shapes dance

across grey walls diffused of sunlight

inside the depths of Plato’s cave

You compel my mind to create a reality

that doesn’t really exist

You vanish more with every breath I exhale

reminding me of your mortal lifespan

lasting only as long as my lungs are filled

together we will eventually wilt

wither into the earth until what remains

is a seed

waiting to be planted

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