Thriving Upon An Accepted Illusion
The fruit of the
center of this Paradise
One that i see
One that i always love to see
Feast always to my eyes
Without failure
One that i gaze upon
A touch on the gloss of the
Paper
Closing my eyes and feeling that it is real
But it isn't
These images live only inside my dreams
They die with the coming of Light
They escape on the hours of
Waking
I am faithful to these images that do not feel me
Do not know me
They are all dead a long time ago
The first time i ever knew them
But i insist
ON this illusion for without it, i die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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