An old poem of mine.
What if everything is but a dream
cast on a jagged plane?
What if the silhouette is but real
and the substance is its shadow?
What if sight is but blindness
and voice is but dumbness?
What if we’re animals in the eyes of the animal
itself – human, created in His image?
What if the womb is our grave
and the grave is but a cocoon pregnant with life?
What if white is but a precious gloom
and rose is but the emblem of death?
What if it’s not sleep after all
but Death tickly calling?
What if it’s foolery finely cloaked
masking as Love?
What if righteousness is but a sin
and Sodomy, the Hallowed?
What if we are just characters
existing only in the dreams of some gods?
What if seated in Heaven is the Devil
and fanning Hell’s furnace is The Lord?