Something Real

by: Emiliano Vazquez-Parrales

If we only see illusions, then what is past them.
How do we separate what is real from what deceives us?
I reach out blindly and try to feel the right beat to match my own.
I try to find my connection to something real.
A chest to lay my head on, and a conscience to speak to me from the heart.
A beat to match my own.
Arms to cradle and be cradled and a shoulder to cry on.
I sought you out in the dark and now I see a little clearer but I feel more at ease, more at peace.
Now that I have found matching beat.