Glass

Glass in the morning
Glass at night

Just words
Time means nothing
We're people of the twilight

Between worlds
Out of time
The space between

Nothing and yet everything
The cosmos embodied
A paradox in our very existence

Existence being a paradox itself
Another question people leave
To the shelf
To gather dust

We're the auditors
We watch
Wait
And take stock at the end

Our philosophies
Based on our purpose
On our perception
Our lack of being

Minds without minds
Viewing the world from a body
A vessel that exists but doesn't

We don't end on notes
We note the ends
We read the messages existence sends

We watch life
Through the clear cut crystal
When we finish
We're left fighting the fall
Looking for a way back in

Looking to prove to ourselves
That things things we've seen,
The things that we've been
Aren't just a fallacy,
An all consuming farce

That they're grounded in reality
And that the life we're left living
Is an insubstantial prison
Built of bars born of 'because'
And cemented by a cocktail
Consisting of a need
To know that you know what you know
And a penchant for blind belief.