Distortions

My mind creates this world.
How can you say I am not God?
Every character, every scene, every aspect;
All a variation of myself.

Created in my image, created in my mind.
Both with and without intention.
The universe forever expanding
Inwardly as it does outwardly.

Distortions of reality,
More elegant than any alternate world.
Why should I leave?

Here I am something,
Simultaneously at, in and above myself.
A beautiful story of consciousness,
Played in a theatre of dreams.

Time passes, I open my eyes.
My focus wanes and I begin to forget.
Only the feelings remain,
Glorious certainty, a guide to my higher self.
Fragments of my truth are written and told.
Just a mere representation, a lie.
Imagination takes hold,
Corrupting, corroding, filling the gaps.

Stop. Let me remember.
Let me feel again,
I want the unadulterated truth.

I want to be back there again,
Where I feel divine,
Where it feels right.

Where I don't feel like a character
In someone else's dream.
I want to be present,
Both creating and existing simultaneously.

Doubts creep in,
It was just a beautiful distortion of reality,
A test of faith. Nothing to see here,
Move along. I am awake. It's gone.

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This poem is from the book, ‘Words On A Page’

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