It’s never like the photo … Is it?


These thoughts pass through my mind

Enticing photos lure me
To palm fringed beaches
Or pristine, modern rooms
Images help my mind create
A picture … A dream.
This dream I call Reality.
The advertising agency has worked
Its magic.

So why does my heart so often sink?
I turn the key to find my room
Is small and dark
My beach, too, so different.
A thin and straggling strand
Between a highway and the sea.

I consider my dream reality … Truth
But what truth?
Is truth a picture strongly filtered
With all around omitted?
Is truth the bigger picture
or yet
the ad man’s dream?

For me
There can only be one answer …
My Truth is that, which I experience:
The Holy, Present NOW