Why do I see beauty?
Beauty where there should be none.
For my eyes are accustomed to the non-existent.
I could see and hear and feel them,
They are the liberated souls of the deceased.
Why do I rely on them?
Well, we are all bodies of our own actions,
And actions of our own words.
The product of time,
Shall not age them.
They might not be real to the common eye,
However they are the atoms of imagination.
They are the thinnest thread,
In a rope of exquisite illusions.
For illusions aren’t deceitful,
They are the truthful lies.
Spirits are the foundations of a pile of skies.
They make me content,
Whispering into my ears, every silent word,
Like the molecules of air,
Passing through my transparent body.
They are a component of my consciousness,
And the product of my sub consciousness.
Seeing them doesn’t make me crazy,
It makes me alive,
As alive as a wilting flower,
Fluttering in the gusts of the invisible wind.
– Imaan Siddiq