Echoes of a son

I took him back and he looked at me.
His eyes spoke loud and I sighed and went away.
Nothing I could say.

I live in this garden now.
But he still plays and races and laughs
And I can see him.

Is reality a product of my eyes?
Or is my mind  the true source
Of all mankind and all is what I need it to be.

Is time a process that belies the truth?
That my son still plays here?
My eyes lie but my mind knows better.

Time is just a trick designed to fetter
Our hopes and desires.
I choose to live when things were better.



, ,

  1. Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: