Another July sonnet: "real yet not the same as reality"

real yet not the same as reality


How might I meet what I have seen? Each day
I view outstanding sights released and shared
to be examined and acquired, to stay
inside my mind so that I've thought I cared
to know what can't be known. But what is true
is though I might converse with them, and they
might know the name I give so that a few
could entertain my face, I can't construe
such whispers to be like relationships
where sweat and tears and blood and bone and hopes
can be exchanged and shared. So if my lips
could speak directly in their ears, the scopes
of admiration's dreams would then expand
and I would be both real and there unmanned.