The bowl filled with hot water,
the dishes and cutlery from lunch
await my attention;

But back then
in the days of sixties summers the
beaches beckoned

The glasses first
followed by the plates, careful not
to over-do the coarse green back
of the sponge on the china;

And us
hand in hand in our rolled up jeans
strolling where the sea meets sand

Knives followed by the forks followed
by the spoons and as I look out of the
window the martins fly to and fro
feeding their young;

I can still hear the noise of gulls
and the whooshing of
waves as we ran sideways up the
pebbles trying to avoid getting soaked

“Where are the clean tea towels” I ask
and you call out
“In the top draw on the right”

When I´ve finished this we´ll sit outside
with a glass of red;
Funny how our taste changes over the years,

in those days of sunshine
and sand in toes it would have been
Blue Nun or Mateus Rose
and the washing up
was probable the last thing on our minds...

As I gaze upon reality, I disgust myself for being it's greatest release. For reality now and reality then are but pieces of it's story that cannot predict reality tomorrow. I've watched reality grow. From it's dark yet blissful past to it's bliss yet darkened present. Why? I ask myself every moment that I gaze upon it. Beauty is one of my strongest joys. A joy that coped away all pains of reality, now tainted by lack of beauty, but flourished with desire for it. The world before my time is only a dream in my thoughts as I lay. A place of meaning, simplicity, understanding; a place of wisdom and freedom being one to overcome ignorance and containment; a place where truth prospered and deceit had no strength against the forces of true beauty. I only wonder how my life would write itself in this world that I hold no absolute truth. I only know what has been written since a fetus and thus far. Confusion tis what blinds my ability to find glory where glory seems indefinite.
Faith, hope, potential, understanding. The gifts bestowed upon me by his greatness. Gifts that push me further than those before me. A uniqueness that creates me through my name. Mateo, Mateus, Matayo, Mateias, all with meaning of blessings and change. A change that this so-called  reality yearns for. I hear the voice of greatness begging that I continue with the war that I fight against the darkness that surrounds me in this world. So I fight, for this battle stands for more than beauty, peace, love, wisdom, unity. This battle is fought by me for truth. For only this shall break our chains that hold us from the grace that we seek in living. I, aware of my Destiny, choose not my Destiny. For my life is written, however I shall write my pages as I please for I choose my own Destiny. I choose my own Faith. I choose the path set before me with lead to whatever foot I select to lead. In that I find my freedom. In that I find truth. In that I find beauty. In only that...I find Reality. But this is only a mere shard of what I seek. A mere fragment of the battle that holds itself beyond my very eyes. A man of many wars, many philosophies,many strengths. And yet a man of many Fears, many pains, and many tears spawned by the clouds that make my lens and condensated from the sadness that is created in mind. I stand in limbo as I view this world and come to realize one statement of pure significance. This is not reality. But what is reality? Do you wonder? Do you know? No. You live in it yet do not know where you are. Lost but Found is who I am but you are Found but Lost. Difference being awareness. I see what isn't through strength and complexity in my perception. You see through desire and simplicity in a dead man's eye. Blind. You see what is wanted and given. You see what your eyes lay, as Beauty in her sleep. You see what your mind craves as a leopard craves a gazelle but can't run, for it has let it's mind steal it's legs with utter deceit. Do you wish to know what I see? I see behind the curtain where the actors perform. I see the black feather of the white dove. I see the things that your mind refuses to see. The beautiful light that you can't appreciate that is the sun. The strength in the weak man's heart that you shun and harm because of their flaws. The words that you, not can't, but won't pronounce, being for what you believe as difficult. I see what you believe you see.
Reality.