The Orb of Reality

Places she goes,

The dreams she conceives,

The souls, the minds touched,

The stories imagined,

The images of joy and mirth,

Of authenticity there's a dearth,

The hearts pronounced with cruelty,

She fills them up with humanity,

If only in her mind's eye,

They're all but unkind,

Shadows that belong to strangers,

Faces with innumerable masks,

A charade in her head,

To venture out there, she's afraid,

Of monsters, known and unknown,

Of a world so far thrown,

Actuality doesn't belong here,

It's a safe haven against danger,

But she does herself a favor,

She never treads further,

And never fastens her ruminations,

To the uncertain bond of expectations,

The orb of reality always by her side,

To take a good look inside,

Pulled back by truth's zephyr,

Whenever she drifts afar

With her hands pressed to the cold bars,

That open to the doomed path of covetous hours,

Whenever she lifts her eyes filled with yearning,

Whenever she feels that familiar aching,

The orb, heaves her back to realism,

To her carefully guarded life in a prism...