I Am Real, You Can Touch Me.

i do not live upon
a dream
i cannot live so well
in one of those
magical rooms of that
castle in the
sky

i live here
upon the floors of what is real
white sands slipping
from the hands of my
five fingers
i sleep in this bed
of reality
my pillow this conscience
of every hour
of my days

i do not exchange the
roughness of the touch of your hands
to what is still ideal
coming from that future
that is yet
to come

what i have is minimal
imperfect
what you dream is colossal
and well thought of
as perfect

i do not envy you
mist upon a mountain
i am the dew upon a leaf
real
glowing to the lights
of packet sun

i am
what you can touch and smell and
see
what you can mold
with the skin from your tongue
i am massive
as a storm that can blow away
the walls of your house
do not be afraid
i am for change
and for the better
i do not exempt
destruction
it is one of the steps of the stairs
towards
the magnificence of that
heavenly dwelling.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!