2011 -- 4.1 (Fall) Poetry

The Nature of Unreality

By: Eric Gray


It’s a gnarled path through the thick woods

The nights are cold and lonely

This often visited place sees few

A world within a world

I escape to this land

Waiting for another

To create life force

As a reflection of us.


As I roam, see past places

Forged by people long gone

I’m on an island,

Or still in the woods?

This place changes like a dream.


Is it real?

hard to tell

what’s real and what is not

Where does Truth become Lie?

Where does Reality meet Imagination?


This plane can’t be touched with hands

But it can be felt through them.

In the medium through which true connections felt,

You can be heard without ever opening your mouth.

Felt by all, acknowledged by few.

I will forever roam this place.