Illusions for the blind.
From that persistent beat of heart,
flows the river beneath your skin.
And, from a steady pulse,
you’re deemed alive within.
But who’s to say you’re living,
and who’s to say you’ve lived?
Amongst the many corpses,
lay lying many men,
most of which died lying,
about how their lives had been.
They sought the completion of objectives,
and, yet, never felt complete,
for all of their perspectives,
were entangled in defeat.
After all, they did not see,
the true solution to the mystery:
Life can’t be won, it’s already free;
The struggle produces our misery.