As Real as It Seems
The day was unlike any other
It was new and uncomplicated
So far it seemed
The silence was so deadly though
It brought thoughts of panic or disarray
Not much to my liking in any way.
I am naïve and young and foolish at heart
It serves me well when on a new path, that I embark.
Never really stopping just to look around
And see if my inner yearning should be bound.
I’m typical in almost every way, as others
Both complicated and sweet, never would bother another.
But sometimes I wonder to myself
“Why is it the world wants us to be put up on a shelf?”
Sorted and managed and never our real selves.
Why can there not be beauty in complex things?
Beauty that roars, instead of just rings.
I want to have that, I often said of myself.
But I wasn’t a wizard, warlock, or elf.
What do you do when your passion, your drive
Takes a most unexpected, navigational dive?
What can make your load easier,
Does it not start with being a believer?
Can we ultimately change our own destiny?
Why is it we leave it to fate and to just anybody?
It is ours, all by ourselves…
Not any ones to claim or pre-sort on that shelf.
In time, I would take my own things and make them better
I would determine the now, the why, and the who mattered.
It would be unglamorous or highlighted, but still special
That is when I would make it mine, for real.
No, this day is not typical but I’ll have others
It is real and complicated
And always as real as it seemed.