Solipsism Summarized

At home, at night, reality's a plaything,
Plastic, no more than a web of notions,
None of which can be confirmed, which
Stew inside my isolated mind. By day,
The web is firm enough for me to
Venture here and there, and tell myself
That what I think I see, a world, other
Minds, are more than notions. They
Exist, but my love, even in the sunlight,
Brings me back into the night. I cannot
Know what she is thinking. Being silent,
She leaves me to fashion her from
Little but the things which stew
Inside my mind, and my mind reels.
It may be wrong, its web too weak
For me to travel. Darkness, then,
Invades the day. My love's gone out
Of sight again. She isn't out of mind.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 61 times
Written on 2015-05-14 at 13:15

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