The Nightmare of Reality.
Sometimes I wake in a sweat,
My body, shivering, dizzy,
As thoughts and fears surface and clear,
Leaving hard, hollow facts and whispering, solid concepts.
Some have said that reality exists how we chose to perceive it,
Others that all share it,
That all are aware,
Still more expand to say there is free will.
Yet all options seem to point to one nameless terror,
For undoubtedly there is evil in this world,
And this, more than all things, is a true horror,
Because regardless of reality’s defining, it is there.
If the world is how I see it,
Then I have chosen to see and feel evil,
And if chose evil,
Have I not evil, am I not evil?
And if the world is greater,
Populated by many in collective consciousness,
Am I not merely a pawn in a greater evil?
With no regards to my individual actions?
Or perhaps it is not a collective,
And I am an individual, free of mob constraints,
Am I not still evil by my own actions,
And powerless against the external evil?
And then what of things beyond and behind my consciousness?
Am I acting of my own free will?
Am I therefore controlled?
If I am, am I not the tool of evil, a malevolent puppet?
Whether I am free of control,
Or simply treading a determined path,
Am I not tainted, tarnished and entwined with evil?
Surely it is inescapable?
Yet despite my troubles I am not void of hope,
No, for always things come accompanied,
A universal equilibria, no light without dark,
No night without the dawning day,
Even evil has its contrast,
For while the world is full of evil, does it not brim with good also?
And so I try to see the balance,
Keeping sane by seeing, not evil, but the foundations upon which towers of good can be built.
| Email this Poetry
| Add to reading list