This thing I thought I could grasp,
Desperately I try to hold on to it,
This thing I never had,
I knew this illusion wouldn’t last,
It disappears as soon as we reach for it,
It’s as thin as the mountain air,
For a moment we lie to ourselves,
placing it securely and safely on a shelf.
Even though it is a forced perception, A contrived illusion.
Once we leave the room...
As soon as we lock and bolt the door...
we wont see it anymore.
We never realize the freedom there is in letting go,
We would be happier admitting this concept is completely fictitious.
We could break this circular pattern, this cycle so vicious.
I've spent too much time trying to hold it in my hands,
Making myself the victim of my own laid out plans.