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,
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,
a well-polished mirror to turn toward the world,
while breathing in the quiet freedom
that things are rarely
the way we perceive them.