Reality

Brilliant smiles seem dimmed; flashing
white pales down, a grin looks like a grimace.

Honest language, natural emotions--hidden,
under a blanket of disapproval; concealed under

an unending cover of fear. Artificiality attempts
to redeem, fails miserably, paves the path to puzzled

facades, giggling expressions. Words blur out--
true words, phrases that could make a difference,

lines that could initiate a change. A pixelated cloud
interferes, an awkward silence ensues for a second, for

the remainder of everything left. Sometimes, what we
see on screens could be real; it could be revolutionary--it

can turn the tables, roll the die, make the north
occupy the south, make a waterfall shoot toward the heavens.

Sadly, that waterfall won't rise upward
if an infinite plate of glass hovers above. But if the

shards of sunlight, with their minuscule fingers,
reach out--shatter the crystal into a million fragments,

let the droplets kiss the clouds... Let the world be free
of the hazy, disorienting shield, let the air inhaled be

fresh, unadulterated. Let the moonlight be without dust particles
that interrupt its silvered glow--so that it reaches out, bathing the

green-tinged sea. Let the viewers finally emerge free.