The Real You

Please don’t talk, just listen
till I see your eyes glisten
with an echo from your soul,
so I can see the whole
the real You

Please don’t balk if I say
that to mask, every day,
desire left on the fence,
you’ll be missing the sense,
the real You.

Don’t stalk your ambition;
lest it be the condition,
round which life will revolve,
so much less to resolve
the real You.

Let’s walk to the dark side
a moment to confide:
if there’s always a fee,
then you’ll never see
the real You.

At a fork in the road,
with fortune still owed
and the soul to atone,
grasp this chance to hone
the real You.

Please don’t talk, just know
that I’ll see your eyes glow
with an echo from your soul;
where we’ll find the whole,
the real You.

© 2009 John Anstie

(View the author’s commentary on this poem)

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