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ESOTERIC : CONFABULATION

Disharmonic oscillations of words and silence
Echoing, refracted by walls of abyssal cognizance
There is a margin of error, by time determined
Information discerned through clouded synapses

Shelves of the brain are less reliable than once thought
A memory so distinct and clear, yet fictitious
How could we ever know that they are false?
Or possibly even tampered with?

Albeit unproven, this brings to light further issues
The reality we know is entirely fabricated by perception
Subtle alterations are perceived, yet impossible to prove
Our epistemology sculpted by malleable elements

We may simply be misled by the convergence of multiple histories
The same stories told by differing authors

And now there is a paranoid itching sensation
To have read countless writs that have not been scrawled
Perhaps lapses in the waning tide of the causality
Of the lack of certainty in myself and reality, I am appalled

Perhaps induced by dreams, artificial pathways
Vectors pointed outward from epiphany
Signals converging upon the periphery
One day, all returns to the global conscience

To sweep the inconsistencies away

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