Last night I was mocked for the belief
that passion in the mind can be made real
in the flesh,
and now I must re-examine a truth
I have held fast for most of my life.
Can we trust the voice that tells us
without words that the intangible can exist –
not as a fairy tale or a wish,
but in the reality of our lives –
if we have the courage to embrace it?
Perhaps this faith has been a wish,
embroidered by circumstance and desire
but no more a reality than the clop
of reindeer hoofbeats heard
when some kind father disappears
on Christmas eve and walks the roof
to enchant his children.
The surety of my knowing –
the certainty that grips my gut
and makes all before me
as infinitely, intimately detailed and clear,
as visible as pebbles scattered in the murky water
of a pool in some green glade –
has been rudely slapped,
cross-examined under the harsh light
of the wisdom of the world pragmatic.
I know I am a dreamer
as surely as I know that there are those
who never dream;
but dreams do not give rise
to the electricity that floods my veins
when knowing jolts me from the dream.
I have work to do.
I must puzzle out the riddle now presented.
But it will have to be some powerful proof
to bring me to deny the physical throb
that travels hand in hand
with the thunder in my mind.
© 2012 RC deWinter
Reconsidering a long-held belief in the light of a challenge as to its truth.