The Liar's Illusion

Epiphany, Guardian of Mysticism and Contemplation

Like the Ellimist, we play games with time.
The universe existing in one single line.
Are destinies chosen, Fate's hands have been risen,
We now spend our lives in our invisible prison.
The mind can be wonderful, if imagination is real.
If not then one's fantasies will have no appeal.
Lives lived in solitude, isolated and alone.
Some live out their lives,and yet are never are known.
And some, like me, wander alone, but not free;
Nowhere, ever again, will I be.
I see not where I'm going, see not where I've been,
I have no destination,and no origin.
I live life to the fullest, at least on the outside
But inside I cower behind the love and the pride.
The me that's inside me, the one that I am,
Is tired and lost, wandering the sand
Of the desert. The barrenness of my own mortality
Cuts through me with stinging, like that of reality.
What's said is said, what's done is done,
Lost souls exist to walk among.
I am cold and alone, searching the ice.
I must lose myself, no matter the price.
I take off my jacket, and welcome the cold.
I will never be young, I will never be old.
Time has now stopped, did it ever really start?
I hold in my hand what is left of my heart.
And as my friend says she can't see me, please repeat what I said;
I realize I'm gone, but I am not dead.

Copyright 2000 Caitlin Carlson