Not Only an Illusion
A poem of incarnation
Was it only an illusion?
I blinked my eyes to see,
the person in the next row,
looked exactly just like me.
He looked the same as I do,
could I be suffering a delusion,
or maybe he was really me
and I was only an illusion.
He turned around and suddenly,
fixed me in his stare,
his eyes replied, I am you my friend
you see we are a pair.
I could steal your identity,
I know we look the same,
though I’ve been here long before
aeons, before you came.
You can borrow my opera glasses
and wear my top hat too,
the moustache and beard are no disguise,
they are all mine it’s true.
And I know you don’t know
and most probably never will,
the handwriting on the program,
was written with my quill.
I orchestrate the day and night
and when you think I’m done
I’ll catch and then merge into you,
there is no place to run.
Many, many moons ago,
I was your incarnation,
I am a vision from the past,
not only an illusion.
©
David Rudder
26th July 2020
Thank you for reading.
