What is real?
Is it this place my body occupies?
That place I dream of?
My memories of what we have shared?
My nightmares of losing my way?
Is what we have real?
The whispers in the wind,
The wanderings in the fog,
The tears in the night?
Will it disappear with the dawn?
Fade in the light of day?
Overtaken by the pressures of life?
My daydreams of another time and place,
Are they just my imagination?
Or is there a place somewhere that is more real than here,
More real than now,
More real than all the realities of this time and space?
I’m hoping so.
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