I've been pondering the Real Thing.
We live in a time and place where
everything is duplicated. There's the
Real McCoy and its dupe. In the art
world, seems we can't seem to enjoy
a copy; no, it has to be a real painting.
Yet, when it comes to Mother Nature,
many would prefer to watch a special
on the tele rather than spend a day in
the forest. It's simply easier and more
comfortable to sit back on the sofa,
sip that martini and watch in comfort.
In today's world of dupes ahoy . . .
it's diamonds and zircons, butter and
margarine, masterpieces and forgeries,
shekels and their counterfeits. I can't
help but wonder if this doesn't bleed
over into our own lives, our values,
or actions.
We have our at home face, the one
we present in our professional lives,
the presence we enact with bravado
to spark fear into whatever enemies
we deem real. It occurs to me that
the dog that meets us at the door is
the only creature to know and enjoy
our real selves.
I want real for me and not just for
the family pet. I swear by the gods,
I'm going to be searching for, and
finding, that real woman within until
the day I die. God help me!
loving me some real
way too used to counterfeit
pray open my eyes
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