Conjuror

in an illusionist realm where we sneak peek

in the dazzling warp of time

inside the robed skin body,

cuddling against nature inside a concrete jungle

on fabricated rhyme,

our mind takes warmth on the established pattern

teasing on an imprinted surface

on snoozing sounds and darkling smoke, mists and

mesmerizing wonderland

on the solace of the swift hologram,

a conjuror, with the sleight of hand and illusion

mesmerizing the crowd (who are they) with spellbound acts

The God! The Universe! Infinity! Trinity!

The answer is still out of reach,

or it seems so by the illusion that wrapped us.

Time will tell, or is that an illusion too?

[Initially published in Medium]