What Is Real

What is Real? I ask myself Is it only that which you can taste, touch or feel? Or is it not the obvious but only the quiet poundings of one's heart Those of sensibility, those which all of wondering humanity must endure. Could it be in the quiet whisperings Which hang upon a lover's breath? Could it be in the silent feelings That which cause my true heart unrest? Could it be in the long lost memories Of the beloved that have come before? Could be in death's eternal silence Never to speak again evermore? Could it be the muriad of ideas That go racing through my mind Like ships that have crossed the oceans Fearless travelers seeking to find Seeking to find that which has not been sought Seeking to think that which has never been thought Seeking to create unique individuality from within Infiinitely seeking...through hardships and loss. Could it be in the miraculous act That makes a plant grow from a seed? Could it be found in the remarkable story Of how mankind came to be? Could be in what makes the sun shine And creates the wind and rain and snow? Could it be where rainbow's treasure really resides Will one ever know? Is it hidden in the quiet snowkflakes Which flutter untethered through the skies Could it be contained in their complex frameworks In which it could microscopically reside. Magical structures of which they are Their infinite uniqueness amazingly clear. From water to air from air to snow from snow to water once again Is this one of the infinite cycles Of which what is real evidently appears? Could there be real? Can it be found? What is real? Is it in sound? Could there be real? Can it be sown? What is real? Is it a fact, is it known? What is real? Is there such a thing as real? Is there a given contract? Is it a solid deal? Is there really, really real? Will real ever cease to be? Is there really truth in real? Is there really, real in me? (December 3rd, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin) (c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,