Things are rarely

the way we perceive them,

be they the elusive reality of our interpretations,

or the objects under our fingers,

that we fondle as solid and sensual

but have no substance

according to those

who have science on their side.


We shape and bend and mold

the dream of life

one perception at a time,

not understanding

the illusion passes like incense into the evening air,

the sweetness savored yet ephemeral.


Things assume the meaning we give them:

joy, pain, beauty, despair,

we decide the meaning,

decide the dream’s destiny,

give ideas and feelings

and the day’s victories and disappointments

the colors and textures

dwelling in the dream.


If grace touches us,

we find Love behind things,

love in ourselves,

for ourselves,

a well-polished mirror to turn toward the world,

while breathing in the quiet freedom

that things are rarely

the way we perceive them.





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