Sunday, April 15, 2012


There's always the issue of illusion and unreal
And the realm of imagination
And the 'are you real'
And the 'do you even exist?'

But at times I do think you are real
Some sunsets I hear your voice.
You're not human
Because human is human
Nothing more nothing less.
Some music, some angle in the sun,
Some ripple on the lake,
Some reflection off the shop window,
And I see you starkly real.

Are you reachable?
If I look within me deep enough,
Or if I loose it all and take the train
To an unknown destination
Where perhaps you live,
Will I find you?

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