Today's blog is a poem (well, two poems actually) where there are two versions of the poem and I have not yet been able to settle my feelings about which version 'wins'. I feel like there should stay two versions of it.

Version 1 – Personal

If Life will be what it has to be,
And Death will come when it comes,
And all the moments that I breathe
Happiness still is mine to give myself...

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I am the real deal, and so are you.
But what is the real deal?

Is it all of the cards we're given
Or the purpose of absolutely everything?
Or is it the sum of both?

We are the real deal
And we are finding out what that is.
 

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In films
they always have music
for all their moments.
I've wished I could.

If I had
my own song playing,
my own vibrant tune 
to live by,
I could dance
through life.

In films
you always know
the dramatic moments;
programs us to think
our own lives are empty,
or that we cannot dance
without a tune.

When the truth is
that we are full
with the power to create;
our own rhyth...

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In an otherwise empty building,
One lighted window.
Pot plants, and maybe someone standing
Beyond the curtain.
I can see buildings in the moonlit water,
A lake behind trees,
A tree behind glass,
Glass behind me,
A picture of myself.
My bardic table 
Reflected on itself.
If I see four truths in one picture,
How many could there be?

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