is perception reality?

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field
from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade
your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
a walk on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,
year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
(I love Pink Floyd)

what are you thinking? at this exact moment. are you forming an opinion of me? do you know how i feel? do you know me, now that i've written so much? said so much? can you look inside my head?

writing. reading. knowing. understanding. they are all perceptions. shadow play. interpretations. all protean. i write what i believe... now. i write what i want you to perceive... now.

am i what i write... and what you read? maybe, at that moment that i write it. but isn't it one's prerogative to change, learn, grow, amend and ... just immerse in the moment? be notoriously fickle? flip one's mind.

between writing and reading lives proteus. smiling in the shadows. playing with the words. moulding them like clay. first in my mind and then in yours. and he doesn't use the same dictionary or the same experience set. why, he isn't even himself sometimes.

isn't there beauty in ambiguity?

and just as you think, think again.