My Real Interest in this Life
MY REAL INTEREST IN THIS LIFE can never be the surface, the mundane, or merely what appears to be. Graphical user interfaces are useful pointers [holograms] but they can only ever be as real as sunlight on the moon. I hanker after what is going on behind the scenes, beneath the veneer, under the hood, beyond the words, under the radar — the outer limits — on the farthest side of everything. When you look at me, I do not only see your face. When you speak to me, I do not only hear your words. When you move, I do not only see the motion. I see your nakedness in everything you are or say or do or move. This isn’t something that I’ve asked for; it’s just the way it is. Unfair? No, not at all. For I bare my soul to you, if you will only look and not enshroud your eyes like others do. Please know that I would not exploit or ridicule the hidden things I see in you or hear from you. For you — I mean the real you, with all your facets, rays and gleams, your heart’s desires and wildest dreams, beyond the world of what things merely seem — are prized beyond belief: treasured, cherished, valued and adored. Each one of us: a masterpiece connected to the unseen by a silver cord…
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© Alan Morrison, 2013
The Naked Troubadour 