Is it ever circumstance
Well, by now wore off the spell and I stand in the plain.
Metabolized my body the last microbe of this illness
That fogged my brain and skewed my mind as it ran through each vein,
But now Iíve gained immunity forever to this sickness.
Well, worn off has all the spell
And I stand by my lone.
Looking out ahead of me I see but a vast plain.
Looking back upon my life I see it was a dance
Iím forced to ask: was it just me, or was it circumstance?
Whoís to say the flowers werenít my interpretation
Of abstractions and my friends not shadows I formed into friends?
Their reactions, our exchanges, only tales of my creation?
The brightness of a situation that which my mind lends?
Whatever I knock into, how can I give it appraisal
If I know the grain of wood thatís making up this sturdy table
Has a quality beyond itself thatís but my fantasy?
Is it ever circumstance, or is it only me?