Illusion

poem 1 from The Ancient Elm

I know it's all illusion
somewhere in my mind,
delusions bleeding through the air
on wings of empty sky.

Personas wrapped around myself,
my path is doomed to err.
Running through a universe
I know is never there.

And every vision chased
will only dim my sight.
A thousand fingers beckoning,
and none of them are right.


I typicaly object to writers explaining their work. Art should stand on it's own, but this is my blog so I'll do what I want. Anyway, for the first poem of The Ancient Elm, I wanted to set up the cycle by introducing the speaker as someone who, like so many of us, is caught up in the drama (mostly self-inflicted), emptiness, and confusion of everyday life. I also used the rhyme and structure to indicate a kind of rigidity or prison. Illusion is a Zen concept that suggests this prison is self-imposed and comes from an unhappy illusionary world we each create around ourselves to the degree we are not able to control our minds and find wisdom.