It’s all in our head

The thought terrifies me

I am not qualified to build a world

Least of all my own

Memory is such a scant and fleeting thing

Reality

Ephemeral and obtuse

Based on whatever mood we allow to rule us

Learning is filtered

Coloured by our thoughts about what we are thinking

When you really get down to it

We are all drunk on our own perspective

Leaning hopelessly in one direction

Instead of questioning constantly

Is this real?

Or yet another misconception

And distortion of the facts

But it gets worse by extension

The thought that there are millions of other humans

Lost in their own illusion troubles me

This and the next generation laid bare to the whims of young white male dictators who live behind screens

Conjuring up ever darker depths of human psyche

Entangling us further in the hype

Of love hearts and likes, channeling our own bias until it turns into walls and fences

That turn against us

And keep us hemmed within the limits of our own consensus

Arguing with the person next to us

Finding ourselves alone

In the echoey chambers of whatever confirms our narrow point of view

And yet there is an upside

A bright side

And thought that excites

The potential of a genesis that has sprung up from the awareness

That everything is an illusion

And if we build our worlds

Day after day

With our thoughts and our perspective

This entire construct is elective

Each morning

Is Groundhog Day

And the internal narrator arrives to say

“In the beginning there was heaven and earth ..”

And we begin again