I look up at the skies.
There is a horde of seagulls
sounding almost like mountain sheep bleating….
It’s so incredibly beautiful!
An illusion, huh?
Scrambled eggs and a poppy seed bagel,
is this plate before me just an illusion?
Will it become an illusion if I gobble it up
or was it an illusion even before that?
That woman with tortoiseshell glasses looking at me,
with a fixated stare, is she just a figment of my imagination?
Is her fixed stare an illusion or are the tortoiseshell glasses illusory?
Is the megalomania of the power-hungry a precarious illusion
or the powerlessness of the masses?
And that tiny dove cooing on the terrace-
diffidence in every coo, that an illusion too?
Oh let’s forget theorizing about illusion.
Let’s keep humming that old …old… song,
for old time’s sake.
Ingrid Bergman gone, Humphry Bogart gone.
Dooley Wilson gone…..
But love – remains when everything else is gone.
No, not an illusion this one.
As time goes by
You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss
When two lovers woo, they still say, I love you ….
on that you can rely *
Come, let’s make love real and save this illusory world.
*The famous song from Casablanca, As Time goes by