Reality felt solid for the first time in a decade,
as I watched the illusion shrivel up and decay.
And I found myself in a world that was mine—
where anything was possible, and all was mind.
Imagining things that could’ve been, or could be,
and realizing that they hold no flame
to the things that are, and what will be.
And what was it—the illusion or the reality?
Or was it a fractured dream inside a blurred memory?