The Man who was God

Closing his eyes and his ears,
The man turns inward to his fears,
And asks a question of a kind,
Within my mind he asks himself,
Am I god to people small,
Have I power, any at all?

Are my cells little people,
Can they rebel against me,
Control and dispense me?

And if I find that it's true,
In my head that galaxies spin,
Has the universe folded in?

And am I in such a fold,
In another mind large and old?

Can we rebel against that mind,
As mine have done to me in kind?

Or are we prisoners at a junction,
Left bereft to serve a function?

And then the man opens wide,
His mind and body to decide,
If the truth is a certain way,
It will come some other day,
But if the truth is just illusion,
Am I here to cause confusion?






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