Or love imagined seems to gratify

What we think is real is like a film
We see  desire and hatred  magnified
Created by  and for our  inner realm

The pain or hatred seems to overwhelm
Or love imagined seems to gratify
What we think is real is  our own film

In our boat, we daydream at the helm
Phantasies of reason ratify
Ignoring sirens and the  roll of bells

Now and then a Prophet stands and tells
The people blind, ignore and wander by
What we think is real is  our own film

Inside our  body closed are the cells
The wishes of the mob are sanctified
Co-created by  and for ourselves

We ignore  the truth  in peril amplified
Our slightest wish or need we deify
What we think is real is like a film
Created by  and for our  inner realm

Advertisements

About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink.