Dew On The Lilacs

Surrogate reality,

divorced from what’s real


The news on your cable,

and movies conceal


The brands that you purchase,

the labels you wear


Convince you of something,

the ‘Emperor’ shares


While consciously vacant,

unconsciously lost


The dew on the lilacs,

impermanent frost


Like quicksand it’s calling,

disguised as a beach


Your essence is falling,

and far out of reach


As peacocks left strutting,

unable to fly


Your time ever wasted

—and waving goodbye


(Bryn Mawr College: February, 2021)

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