Appearances

The world holds on to one
The other is let go with ease
Appearance deceives no one until time
And only time, as usual becomes the crime
Now, it is too late

The world can grieve
But only a few can grieve deservedly and truly
And leave their body
A projection into dreams from which reality
(an unforgivable truth)
Never comes about
Most of us, however, never make it this far

A dream is more real than any reality
Both of these things will grow congruently
Until one of them, after time, will give grudgingly
Its small but sacred place in the minds tonality
Tone will manifest as the moon does its light
And after any plight
The mind will revert to taking any sight
To be something of a threat
And die as slowly as the great oak grows

All that is left is appearance
What appears to be true is a false lucid dream
We don't control because we aren't ourselves
Ourselves appear to be us but we know better
And yet in this chaos we appear to be fine
As if this illusion of happiness was divine...

And appearance said that all would be well
Until a jagged edge tore the sheet and showed hell
But the world patched the sheet as appearance told
And those of us higher saw appearance's hold
The higher would writhe and weep from the skies
But the rain that would fall would be labeled as lies
And the higher would fall until one was left hanging
On a last bit of truth, whispering "the world is changing"
No one would hear him and alone he would fall
Silently landing, the truth dead with him, among us all