The world in my head,
with my mind's eye, a world view,

I can't see the ends of the earth, the Earth,
from here, is it real?  I mean,

the hate the fear I taste on the wind without,
even reading the news or watching tv,

as I step out my door is it real?
I could name names but if

they looked deeply into my past,
they would find something to shame, shame

me about.  Is it real?
They way we treat one another, like

twisted brothers and sisters,
family, who needs them when,
we act, is it real, the act?

Is it real, all the stuff you touch and
see, whether or not you like me or

what I type and say off the cuff,
is it real this stuff, I mean, is

it real important?  That person right
in front of you, in that moment or the next

Or is the one who is always with,
is that the Real, ...it is.