Paranoia?

Closure of the seeing,
Everything means, tells something.
The suffering, the confusion,
from coloured glasses,
All shatter as true picture emerges,
The true desire manifests.
All attempt of coloured illusionary charade melts away.
This is real.
I have either dwelled among the clouds or the waves,
or within my self-made beautiful deck,
Where everything is ignored,
Self flattery is induced.
Broken now are all shelters from a earthquake
So severe, So beautiful.
I drift.... slowly
I can't be afraid or tremble,
for I have to see what is to be seen.