So perfectly placed, all in thought,
A utopian state, reality that is not,
Being normal and still against the norms,
An insane mind, grasping the theory of forms...
Like a train, enroute for solitude,
Engrossed in dark illusions of servitude,
Of ideas that either make or mar us,
And ideas that actually do make and mar us...
Religion, individual state of mind,
Creation, and theories of mankind,
Ideas, that aptly defy sense,
Concepts, unveiled via their essence...
Its simple sounding uncertainty,
its you.... its I.... Its Philosophy...
