Sometimes it seems that most of our living, <br />our experience, is about sifting through <br />acres of insincerity, inauthenticity, <br />mounds—no mountains—of rhinestones <br />and fools’ gold, yards of burlap <br />and synthetic fibers, <br />just in the hopes of finding one or two <br />genuine articles to clutch onto <br />and trust. <br /> <br />As fluid as mountain run-off, <br />thrusting toward the valley <br />at spring thaw; <br />as elusive as the rare puma <br />stalking in the arroyos <br />like a phantom who’s lost his way: <br />What is real, what is of value, <br />lies so near and so ever-present <br />that it sometimes takes a lifetime <br />to realize that it <br />has always been there.<br /><br />Sonny Rainshine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shadowing-the-genuine/
