Illusions

Belief seems to be an axiom. A very fuzzy one at that. We believe what we, as an individual, need to believe. It's a construct which is unbreakable and non-negotiable. But it is a funny construct:

I could believe,

When I fumble at No. 14, Op. 27, No. 2,

That I was the Sire Himself an age ago,

And the noise I make

Would disappear.

And every note would seem to fall into place,

Just as I had imagined it.

 

I could believe,

That I was Matthew the dreamer

Living a biopic, a utopia,

With the twins,

And quietly switch to Theo

When the riots outside

Beckoned me.

When the Red Book beckoned me. 

And I would believe I was living the revolution.

 

I could believe

That I've saved many a life,

Been humaneness personified.

And be led to believe that

I've forever been true

To myself and to the world.

 

I could believe

All the figments of imagination

That I wish were true.

As I believe in those that were once untrue.

 

Belief.

The pill of illusion we're all addicted to.

Shows us not reality, only what we believe to be true.