The Unspoken "End"

All alone in an empty room,

Deep into the fictitious world we zoom,

Ticking of the clock in a hollow space,

Resonant sounds like drums we sense,

Surrounded by the silence of air,

A world of fantasy we generate,

By the nerve impulses, that our brain sends.

Is this world a reality?

Is our existence true?

Are the questions we ask ourselves...

When we go deep into our view.

Is the END near?

Or is it far away?

Do we live after?

Or do we go away?

The questions of reality,

Which no one can predict,

As thinking about them, saddens every mind.

More we think, Superficial we get,

Finally realizing the hallucinations of depth,

The ticking of the clock again and we are awake,

Back into reality, We continue our breath.