Life's Questionable Myth!

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Life is a questionable myth, and the world, a mystery,
An insignificant existence, hidden from history.
Humbled and bundled into the universe's embrace,
With nothing but the mind, hanging by a fragile trace.

The cold winter night passed, leaving me hollow,
As I lay in my room, staring into the endless shadow.
The world remained dark, yet my mind burned bright,
Sifting grains of reality from the ocean's vast might.

Nature gifted ways to free my vulnerable soul,
Dragging it from the confines of my body's control.
Plants and fungi, a symbiosis breaking sensory chains,
Binding me in oneness with all that remains.

A journey that shattered my ego, burying its boast,
Revealing truths beyond life's narrated ghost.
No battle to fight, but surrender to vast epochs of truth,
Suspended between delusion and wisdom's root.

Confusion raged: what is real, and what is not?
I sought peace, closing my eyes, a heart distraught.
Transported to a transient plane of wisdom and lore,
Where optimistic nihilism opened a humbling door.

Adrift in a realm where reed and soul intertwine,
Perfection and realism hovered near life’s brine.
I stood atop the mast, clutching the rope of thought,
Torn between waters, by indecision caught.

The clocks slowed, and time itself stood still,
The universe revealed its glory, bending my will.
Beneath its starry crown, I bowed in awe,
Humbled, head low, before its eternal law.

For in that moment, the truth unfurled its thread:
What is real, and what is perfect, linger in my head.

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