Beyond the Amusement Park
The lights enchant, the rides distract,
They chase, they crave, they look back.
Their fleeting joy, a hollow spark.
Lost beyond the amusement park.
Are they fulfilled, or is it lack?
That pulls them in, then sends them back?
A hunger masked, yet never still,
A thirst that pleasure cannot fill.
To seek, to strive, to claim, to be.
Yet blind to their dependency.
They breathe, they drink, they eat and cling to air
Yet need a function to keep them here.
If lack defines the self we know,
Then what is real? What is a show?
Are we but echoes in the mist?
A fleeting thought or consciousness?
For why is ‘something’ when all is “none”?
When all we chase is never done?
Pretending forms, pretending ties,
A shadow cast in borrowed skies.
If we were this life, we’d never fade,
Not bound by time, nor born to trade.
Yet here we stand, yet here we seem.
Bound to longing, lost in dream.
The world we build, a painted veil.
A tale we weave, a ship set sail.
Becoming this, becoming that.
A cycle turning, ever flat.
Nothing is lost, if none was real,
No weight to bear, no fate to seal.
What is, but dust upon the sea?
From lack, we shall be.
