The Illusion Poem by Clyde King

I wish I could learn to get ahead
only a few seconds and escape the dead;
leave this world of wrath and tears
and get to join those that have fled.

He plays upon our darkest fears
all the time and then he leers
at our suffering in the end
and drops the curtain as the audience cheers.

All life is an illusion
behind his curtain of confusion.
Try catching the wind in your hands;
even then you suffer the delusion

that is beyond understanding.
Why a fool like me notwithstanding
can endure the changes in this fusion
of the emptiness at his commanding.