Homes for Illusions
How strangely specious our minds can be
In their responses to reality.
To hide from their own sensitivities
To facts, they build complex delusions
And shelter in such weird confusions
As might protect their vulnerabilities;
Although glass walls of subjectivity
Can’t hide the truth from objectivity.
Under the stress of ontic agonies
We may persuade ourselves such schemes are not
Malign, in order to reduce unease
In our own hearts. Others see through our plots.
Mind over matter has bizarre control, it seems,
And makes, of hopes, homes for illusions and false dreams.
