I live constantly between reality and Illusion.
I don’t know where ends or begins the other.
What’s reality? Isn't illusion part of reality?
Or is reality part of illusion? But what’s illusion after all?

Between thin lines,
I see the shore of those broken ideas.
Along the springs of my heart,
I see flows against tides.

Where do I belong?
What do I seek?
It is me or does everything seem blurry?
I am a capital energy of this passivity place.

I am real. Am I?