A lone hour, a sole hour
Looking into the emptiness of the Creation,
Is it there, is it really there
Or is it just an illusion, all this?
Waking thoughts and silent dreams
Ambitions and destinations,
Like fork in the road,
Run parallel, never meeting;
Do they every converge?
When The Calling calls, the clock opposes
-biological, logical, all explanations.
Do we ever answer?
Is it an illusion, all this?
Some fascinated ideals established,
Always elusive?
Questions and more questions,
Time answers some, others pile on.
Yet we live, we move on,
Or do we really?
Is it an illusion, all this?
