How do you make things real,
That are figments of nothing...
Created from something,
Not tasting nor touching...
For the thoughts are not real,
They are figments of something...
Created from nothing,
Not seeing nor loving...
Are you a figment of nothing,
Or something?
Something that breathes?
Like the air in the trees,
Or the waves on the seas?
Do you dream in nothing?
From something not loving?
Or nothing in nothing?
Are you in love?
With something above?
Not pushing to shove?
Do you get what you want,
By making figments real?
Does the love lack luster?
Or lose its appeal?
Grab what is real...
Like a quilt that is sown...
Or you may find yourself,
Cold, old, and alone...