This Life in the Heart of Being

This poem is about understanding if the life we are living currently is actually our primary and only lifetime, or if everything we are seeing everyday is what our minds are illustrating for us to see

This life in the heart of being
has me believing,
this world seen as nonfictional
may be fabricated
by what our eyes have illustrated
to assist in viewing figures.

Are you real?
Is anything real?
or is it the minds impulsive appeal
that makes me believe that
I'm not an independent entity

In all I see
philosophy could be the concept
ingrained in the project
of discovering the meaning of our world.

Is it what we are actually viewing
or could we be producing
what will be offered to us
in our actual lifetime.