Waking

The grand illusion isn’t meant to break Our grasp; so day by day we gasp for air, Each breath a waning phantom as the dare To challenge facts and knowledge fades, opaque Like ice within the convoluted ache Of time. We’re wounded by the sickly glare The eyes beyond us cast, in shadow, where The demons of our nightmares crawl; mistake After overlooked mistake creates a fractured Existence – one we spend our years inside Of, hoping that our efforts can redeem Us, hoping that we haven’t just relied Upon a frail belief itself procured By lies, and find that we were but a dream.