Misbah loves writing poetry. She says poetry is what makes her heart feels warm and light.
This is a short poem about the existence of humans. While sipping tea on my terrace in the evening. A question arose in my mind: Is my existence truly real, or am I merely an illusion? We say love hurts, but I believe love is a delusion. We, the humans, live in this world, and we know without a doubt that one day we will leave it; we are just an illusion that changes every minute of the day, and one fine day our existence will be gone forever.
Sigh! Our existence, our super-existence. We have no control over it. Sigh! Oh fate, and Sigh, Oh existence.
We run throughout our lives trying to make the most of it, although we are aware that all of our dreams are hallucinations. This world is known as reality, but I disagree; this world is an illusion to me. One day, I'll open my eyes and find myself in a different world, only to realize I've been dreaming. My existence is purely imaginary.
. . . And what is the life of this world except the enjoyment of delusion.
— (Al Quran, Surah Āl`Imrān 3:185)
My Existence An Illusion
This existence is an illusion,
And my love is a delusion.
My dreams are nothing more than hallucinations.
This planet is home to millions and billions.
But then again,
The earth is nothing more than empiricism.
I am aware that I am alive,
But I am unable to recall my origins.
I know that before I opened my eyes in this world,
I was alive in my mother's womb.
Still, I don't have any memory.
And I consider myself intelligent.
Even I don't have control over my brain,
And I think I rule the world like a king.
I am nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.
— Albert Einstein
© 2022 Misbah Sheikh