A Claim

I tried to be a rock throughout,
While atheists became devout,

To the currents, to hard beliefs,
And since then, there’s no relief.

I feel as if this is a war,
Within the mind, but something more.

I cannot trust what I see,
When vision is deceiving me.

Much since then has been revealed,
Through shifts and turning of a field.

For what’s pretend, for what is real,
For trusting in the way I feel.

At once a victim of the burn,
While perpetrating too in turn.

The flames, it seems, that I too feed,
Bring ends that are but guaranteed.

One thing ‘pon which we foes agree . . .
From ‘what is,’ we shall break free.

For better, worse and in between,
It’s how we may one day come clean.

Freedom was never illusion.
We lost it in our shared delusion.

Exchanged for some material,
The truth was made ethereal,

And thereby deemed a fairy tale,
And placed from view behind a veil.

Behind that veil, it does remain,
Waiting for thee to make a claim.