REALITIES

Ever since I was a little girl
I have an image etched in my memory,
A huge temple
A larger crowd
And a sea of people in front of me.
But all I was curious about
was a man with a tattered jacket and
only one shoe,
His gaze was faraway and when he smiled
his mouth revealed a missing tooth.
That man sat there gazing
to a place faraway in another land
He was so engrossed and completely lost
he didn't even notice he was holding up a queue.
"Who is that?" I asked my dad,
I was only five.
"A lunatic." He replied.
But he looked so happy in his game
making phone calls,writing mails
His phone was a broken comb
and in thin air he typed
A loonatic?
Fancy! I replied.
At age ten, in the same spot I sat again
watching him
He looked just the same.
the same "Macbook air"
legs folded neatly without a care.
When eighteen, I crossed paths with him again.
Is he absolutely crazy or the only one who's sane?
What is real and what is not
Who is to tell, who knows
It's an insanely thin line as far as sanity goes.
But today, as I sit here across from you,
and you cup my small hand
under your warm palm
you quell all my tornadoes.
And I know now
if there is ever something close to real,
close to the truth;
It is you.
It is you.
It is you.