a rainy days' forest path

we are just prisoners
here of our own device
the song sings as my lone valley
prepares for the wrath of the beast

you can run but you can't hide
as Napoleon asked
what is this mysterious fluid that gets in the way,
that makes the world seem a farce?

the dream stings reality
with a nightmare 'come real
and you swoon in possibility
when signs materialize, however trivial

you are caught in a mudslide
as the slippery surface takes you down
all you can see is the mud-spray around
making colors disappear

the world is bathed in black and white
and grey and brown and shades of light

choice,
choice to feel
choice,
of what you percieve to be real
choice...

is it that simple?