Tree of Illusion

Darkness is here.
The old tree still blooms outside,
Shedding its petals away in the wind.
The land is covered
With heaps of its tears
I wonder if there really
is a hard ground underneath.
If I step on them, wouldn't I
fall into a pool of paperly petals?

The darkness was here,
and I have become it.
I can't remember if I have always been a part
Or not.
Through the big old-fashioned window
I see an old tree
It seems very full of life
But I wonder if it's alive.
The darkness here is an absolute one,
turning smallest resemblance of life
into a full illusion.
The world out there
(If I step outside)
Might be as dark as in here
Or simply be a wicked painting
which stood there over the years
But was forgotten what it had looked like.