Illusion

Poet, or pagan, or wandering Jew,
battling the world for a place, for a view,
for a chance to see farther than ever before,
a chance to rise up and walk out my front door.

The universe turns within a dark mind
with nirvana to come when we leave it behind,
as if anything matters but what we believe,
fruit of a shriveled and infertile tree.

Tilt my hat and set my feet to walking
till I found the front door open and went in.
The bar was packed but the band was playing
so I found someone and we stepped out to dance.

Let the light within you shine
and never mind the sun and stars
whose distant warmth is metaphoric
while conversation here is so euphoric.