Where Real Lies

I am not real. I cannot see
the things that others seem to see.
And yet I feel so much that they refuse.
While I wallow in the pit of their denial.
And who shall I pray to
to ease this great pain...?
A merciless God.
Once created by men
who flounder in fear
as if life were too dear to live on.
I am woman. Yet I never roared.
Instead I chose to soar beyond
their science and their chemistry.
Needing to be only that
which I was meant to be.
Unknowable.
Not owned by any other.
Nor entrenched by all their lies.
My home has always been within
and out there in the starry skies.
I never learned to deal
with their marketing affects.
Steered clear of all the games
that always came from politics.
Waiting for a sign to come.
A symbol I would not ignore.
I never learned to swim
because I had the wings to fly.
Time has passed.
The years gone by unbidden.
For all that I have sought the hidden
truths of life, it seems I never found
a way back to the magic that abounds
just past the tragedy of senses.
Yet still I believe in the treasures
received from the spirit.
Having put aside the tomes they call religious.
Reaching out for deity that knows that I exist.
And cares for my well-being.
Beyond the lust of only sensuous.
Within the increments that join forever
into more than sensate ecstasy.
Past the grand divisions
of their puny views of heaven,
lie worlds within worlds
that keep expanding out of time.
Iím not a mime.
I know just touch is not enough.
And yet I cannot live without it.
I need to dive and rise, somehow at once.
And find again that place inside
where all the worlds are one.
Alone but together.
No matter the weather.
Where real lies in the feel
of all that is...

? Michaelette ?

6/26/2005
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .