Mirage

poem by: John Prophet
Written on Apr 13, 2019 

It is a
mirage.
Spun up
in a place
unknown.
Everything 
seen an
illusion.
Ghosts,
vapors whiffing 
in an out
of existence.
Ghosts 
in the 
machine.
Infinite 
iterations running
simultaneously.
Universe one
of countless 
churning to
and end,
an unknowable 
end.
Universes 
populated.
Populated by
 unknowing.
Immersed in
something 
beyond
understanding.
Beyond reach.
Vapors, moving
in and 
out of illusions.
Forever.
Immortal 
they be!

 

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