The Path’s End

The Path’s End

Something captures us.
Our attention, we call it.
It takes us places,
In our imagination.
Then leads us to the end.
Then there is nothing else,
But to turn around,
And go back.
Wishing we could take it
Make it real,
Make it part of us.
Make it part of the world
We actually live in.
Wondering,
Who this person is,
That we call ourselves.
This life we lead,
That we call ours.
Where honesty
Is a peculiarity,
And called weakness,
To many.
But I can not hold
That burden any longer.

I can not be what you want.
No more than you can.
I am what I am.
That is all I,
Will ever be.
To ask any different,
That is the real fantasy.
The chorus of earthbound
Angels groan.
Because the truth,
That we are,
Has been sequestered
To our imagination.