Under the broiling sun, a wanderer sees
through the haze, not the shimmering oasis,
nor the oasis of shimmer, but a reflection
of self, grotesquely comedic.
"It’s a mirage,"
said the scholar,
wearing sunglasses
meant for the eclipse.
"A mirage is just like
that time I mistook a broom
for a wise old man."
Such is life, a series of misunderstandings,
theatrical mishaps glimpsing reality's edges,
stage left: destiny stumbling in socks,
stage right: time missing its cue.
@{
the curtain calls a silent nod
}
Go further down the rabbit hole:
Lost Truth? |
Scholar's Empire |
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