Pure dreams

Imaginary lies rosen from,
fictions of perception gathered.
Built through the ages upon,
time itself as one of those.

No escaping beauty,
shaped into form.
The closer, the shorter.
The purer, the truer.

See, what I mean?
Meaningful, you see.
Then time sweeps in,
and corpses starts flying.

I feel it happen before,
I see it surface in the reality.
Fictions of the future,
upward a river everchanging.

Now, when future manifest,
indifferent from the current.
Liberated from bland artifice,
beyond the never-ending.

Outrunning the retardation,
of the constructed mind.
Consistently failing to perceive,
the omnipresent motion of all.