My hands they are there,
Every finger I see.
Each finger can move,
To a thought’s plea.
But is what we perceive unvarnished reality?
If reality is purely perception.
If moved a finger not.
Shall I see the hand as false,
When feeling is not sought.
When feeling is all gone,
What truth or real have I got?
K. Aldaya, 8/1/04
Oh, I remember that!
Can you not, too?
Over there I once sat!
“No you didn’t” said you.
Is the glimpse a lie?
Not real, but of dreams?
A shadow caught by an eye,
Imprinted where the mind deems?
How can we tell what is real,
When visions are softly expressed?
We have these and what we feel,
How would we know if the truth was repressed?
K. Aldaya, 4/22/03
Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9tss1apr31rerjd7o1_400.jpg
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 
