Lost In Our Own Worlds: A Philosophical Poem
What happens when the systems we create to organise human civilisation trap us? Is there more to reality than perception? We are lost in our own worlds, We wear sunglasses that protect not from rays insidious, But from nature. The frame isn't a tinge of black, But a sheet of fog, Like evaporated mist. Not the mist that decorates valleys by hiding them, Evoking childlike suspense. But the mist of isolated breath. Air that escapes the nose to fog vision. Vision. A connection to perceived reality. Reality, as we know it. A bridge to that faraway island in the tropics. The sun shines, The sands blow, The trees wriggle and cough to dust away the sand that settles on green skin. Savoury sea-salt smells its way to the nose that smells reality, As we know it. Like the human with the lenses, The world- momentarily- a brighter place, Hardly for the human with the weak eye, without the lenses. Humankind sleeps. The island with its human colours sinks into the abyss of non-existence. Bu...