I wake. Cognito ergo sum. But now I surely find
That my doubts resolve to trap me in the mazes of my mind.
Do I know all that I think I know? Is fact surely a fact?
Or is reason but a empty bowl that’s broken, aged and cracked?
My thoughts are spinning. Seeing is believing. So they say.
My perceptions dig into my mind in each possible way.
So: is life a drug whose psychedelic patterns hold in thrall?
Is there any way to separate the real from dream at all?
What with worldviews, prejudices, ignorance and then spots-blind
There is no escaping that we all are prisoners of mind.
Unless divine revelation should illumine what we see
We’re pre-destined to life’s quicksand: suicidal bigotry.