The Fabric Of Reality

 Sorry for the long hiatus, between virtual school and tuitions, I've barely had any time to breathe! I wrote some really nice poems though, so here's one of them.

It's a carpet

Yes

I think reality is a Persian carpet

In some places, the carpet is flat

factories, slums, banks

realists, broke tenants, cancer patients

porridge, bread, ginger

There is no doubt

This is reality

Some parts of the carpet are bunched up

Right at the top of the fold

The strands of reality parting

The barest hint of artistic license

kindergarten, chocolate factories, poetry slams

children, artists, drug addicts riding on a high

cheesecake, chillies, sizzlers

Where was I?

Oh yes

Reality

Maturing and growing up

is sliding down the fold

and standing up in graceful acceptance

Most scientists you'll find 

On the flat bit

But the best ones stay 

On top of the fold

That 1%

Who's willing to believe

That they don't know

Just everything

Yet

Everyone starts on top of the fold

One slop is littered 

With people trying to get down

Mostly young

The other slope

Sees people who got down 

And realized

They don't particularly like it 

After all

Indifferent

The carpet stretches on

At the very edge

There are tassels

There, strips of reality

Mismatched pieces of a puzzle

Are tied together

In the wrong order

There you'll find

Dreams