Our Consensual World Is 'real' Poem by Ananta Madhavan

Some early mornings, on awakening,
I wonder what and where I am.
I see my outstretched hand, the dew
Faintly dampens invisibly.

I grope to hold on to a scene,
The idea of Reality, outside my reach.
I join the great consensus of our tribe:
There is a world and we here in Life.

The optic nerve pervades the waking mist,
We see the real world, but also doubt
If it is illusion or a vivid dream,
A partly plausible rumour we have heard.

Reason can falter. Are we deluded then?
Are we protagonists in a broken dream,
A fragmentary trance beyond our ken?
Who is the Sleeper? What is the end?