Living the Illusion

How would it feel to just let go?
       Would the sky really fall,
       or the earth cease to spin?
       Would anyone really notice
              in more than marginal proportions?

How can one survive while buried alive:
       Trapped within the nightmare,
       under the rubble of yesteryear,
       tossed with the run-off thoughts of today,
       composted with the accusations of tomorrow?

Can one really control the landslide
       as it brings down everything in its path,
       in selective and random ways;
       rendering even an iron grip powerless
              like putty in its wrathful reach?

Barely hanging on is a temporary solution…
       Would it be easier to crawl back under -
       into earth’s vile womb in submission;
       where repression effected one,
       yet spared a small nation of sorts?

Where’s the decision really?
       Isn’t it all just an illusion
       of the cruelest magnitude;
       teasing and taunting its prey
       to the banquet table feast?