choice theory

I used to think concrete meant real

that if I could touch the words I spoke 

they would settle into the earth 

and grow like flowers

 

Soon I learned that real is relative

that cement blocks collapse

under the weight of our perceptions

leaving only dust

 

These crushed particles of reality

float at random past our eyes

obscuring our ability to see one another

leaving us practically blind

 

Without our sight

in the backs of our mind

images arise out of darkness

distorted, deluded, deceptive

 

This is hatred’s home

where accidental misunderstandings

rupture into rivalries

and divide us into isolation

 

In our visionless state

we have forgotten our origins

the tree from which we all bloomed

has been chopped to its roots

 

I want to clear the dust

so we can see again

and gaze at one another

through open eyes

 

The realest thing that exists

is what lives in our minds

and it is our choice

about what to bring to life