’Keep it Real’

Posted: June 25, 2010 by Marya in Poems
Tags: , , , , ,

“Just ‘Keep it Real'”, she said, I squealed with delight inside –
From there I stepped outside,
Shied away from hiding my feelings.
‘Keep it Real’ – manifest your truth – live authentically.

“Take it slow!” she frowned,
“Be careful, don’t you know where you’re going?”
“I don’t know”, I said, “didn’t you just say to ‘Keep it Real?'”
My mind reels with confusion
Keeping it Real is an illusion, delusion even!
What does it mean when ‘free’ seems ‘freefalling’?

I’m falling. I love it. Stepping into the unknown –
shown no way but my own.
God it feels good.
No shadow, no distance, just me in this instant –
twirling and falling, drowning and smiling.

“What now?”, I ask. “Keep It Real”. “But how?”
“If Real feels like I’m spinning – and winning – what now?
I can’t live my life with my feet off the ground!”
“I know”, she said, “so what have you found?”

“I’m frightened”, I said, “of what I’ve become,
I’ve lost all my senses, become comfortably numb.
But now to allow to unravel like this
I can suddenly see what in life I have miss’d.
Miss my life, miss my time – inextricably mine –
yet, by me stolen away and hidden in time.”

“What is Real?”, she said. “How I feel.” I felt
bursting with goodness
with bountiful happiness
splendiforous sauciness
and ridiculous bawdiness
“Wow, wow, wow, this is it!”
Such spirit, such treasure,
what a world of great pleasure
I found myself in..

“Who are you?” she asked,
You know, t’was as if this had passed
me by up to now.
“Who am I?” I said
“I don’t know” in my head
a magnitude of images flicked through my mind
a spiral of intangibles sped my by eyes
“I’m a being who is seeing
for the very first time,
Being reborn, still torn between two worlds,
not yet found my feet in just one.”

“Keep it real”, I harumphed, “I feel I’ve neglected one side –
shied away from the truth
while rekindling my youth.
My ‘other’, my soulmate, my mirror, my love –
why can’t I look to him, what am I scared of?
I’m scared that to hold him might put me back on the ground,
when really I’m ecstatic to be freefalling right now.

Maybe ‘real’, I now see, is no specific thing –
no ‘one or the other’, no ‘understanding’.
‘Real’ can be movement, a falling in space,
‘Real’ is not belonging to a particular place.

For now, ‘authentic’
is hand in hand with planning the next bit –
coming closer to ground,
not spinning, but floating down,
keeping unlocked from inside all my merriment and mirth
And enjoying this moment, this amazing rebirth.

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