To Be Holy Is To Be Real

I speak a word
It bounces back
or is absorbed into the
relationship.
I write a line
It is scrubbed out
or resonates with ideas
in my mind.
I observe a tree
The leaves move me
as they are moved
by the wind.
I hear the cry,
The whistle, the laugh,
and the birds remind me of
diversity.
I touch the wood,
dead, solid, firm
a purpose served.
And I realise the holy is to be found in the everyday.

To be holy is to be real.