The illusion

(This intuitive sense of self is an effortless and fundamental human experience. But it is nothing more than an elaborate illusion. Under scrutiny, many common-sense beliefs about selfhood begin to unravel. Some thinkers even go as far as claiming that there is no such thing as the self.)


Our everyday illusion begins to grow as the sun ripens to a fruit in the tree hanging in glory for its falling moment. Our shirt sticks to the body of illusion, our self growing out of a banana fiber made of words of purported meaning.

Fiber grows transparent as the sun grows making the body a silhouette by dusk. And silhouettes disappear as sketch outlines bodies experience before the sun sets.

Bodies are mind’s constructs in yesterday. Yesterdays are body’s constructs in mind, re-assembled , as we grow out of words and get up and grow, away from the sun like naked holy men who came to the river from the snow hills, hanging their selves.

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Retired banker with poetry and photography as chief interests

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