Skins of Illusions

The voice of Dreams keeps on vibrating in the distance
In the back of the reception hall of sudden decisions
They swarm, for ever offering between two sighs
Their attention, their untouchable devotion
They grew up, approached each other
They built transparent cathedrals
They sometimes turned their backs on the steaming reality
Then, wiser, softly enveloped it with their persuasion

They had to work to keep their balance
Walking step by step through repulsive lands
Sometimes trapped by the glitterry standards of Belief
They survived it,  stubbornly
This is a long and grueling healing
To keep under the scalpel of Facts the amazing energy of Ideal
After having peeled it as a fruit, throwing away and forever
The degenerated skins of Illusions

June 2015