Truth is never proved
For once proved it becomes a fact
Facts are outcomes of satisfaction
Of our Pentasensory perception
Waves they dance on different tunes
Some we observe and some we control
What makes our thinking ah so very blurred
Is that most are beyond our sensory world
Humans strive to convert everything
To comprehension which makes us comfortable
The quest is unending my friend
Yet we all try to buck the trend
We reach what we think is the ultimate truth
Only to realise that its only an illusion
We make rock solid idols dressed in finest livery
To see them shattered with every new discovery
Is there nothing which is our anchor
If everything moves how can we be steady
Forever and ever we seek stability
Cursing the drunkard for his disability
We create creators in our image
Bestowing powers as we perceive
Some harsh and some so loving a spectre
We bow before them and give them the sceptre
Our fear of the unknown, this gripping fear
We make creators who love us and are dear
Even if unwanted we put them in our locker
We say he loves us what otherwise we'd call a stalker
Illusions mere illusions these are my friend
You are the creator of all you survey
You not only created what you can perceive
But also that which your senses cant receive
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