What is ‘real’ don’t mean jack if my wanting is strong
In the way that it eclipses any self-doubt.
I create much like magic when I’m at my best.
When I’m truly excited I can’t take a rest.
There’s a cosmic religion toward which I’m devout.
I’m eternally baptized. That’s why I belong.

I’m a freak for the analog. Try as I may
To weave fabric of sense of all divergent cloth,
Something still doesn’t fit right. Then I must adjust
My grand theory a little with little distrust.
Life’s technique draws me near as the flame does the moth.
Were life not a fine riddle, I’d have naught to say.

Either lifting is easy or there is no weight.
When the spirit is high, the real world is there too.
So there’s no need to rev up the simple machine.
Only stuff that is heavy and folks who are mean
Would require a tested technique tried and true
To maintain oneself in a more positive state.