'm held captive in Plato's dark cave,
Seemingly forever enslaved
To shadows cast, to smells and sounds,
Which our senses declare as real and true,
Our perception in ignorance bound.

But how can we discern what's true
When our senses give such meager clue?
Why should anything matter, perchance,
Or prove this life is not a curse?
When words fail me, I choose to dance.