An Elaborate Hoax

This life is an elaborate hoax

Where in the end there is no saving grace.

Robbed of one final act of defiance

Save the manner and the hour

Of my departure.

It’s a projection, a holographic illusion

Displayed on an earth-size stage.

The illusion is not so obvious,

Like a palmed coin

Appearing from behind your ear

Or a bouquet of dried flowers

Snapped from a magician’s sleeve.

This magic is subtle

Embracing and enhancing the story as it unfolds.

It lulls you into the illusion

That free will can stop the sun

Or subdue the waves and tide

Or bring you peace.

We were given free will,

A double-edged sword if ever there be,

Then made to believe we had control.

The joke is on us.

An elaborate plot is laid out

And we are made to follow step by step

To its sad conclusion.

How came we by this delusion?

From what seed did it grow?

What fruit will it bear?