Genuine Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

When one accepts,
Who one is...
All that isn't,
Is made clear.

And that which has an identity,
As distinct as a tree.
Also appears to be genuine.
And recognized for what it is,
Naturally.

No pretentions are given to get from it.
Nor would that be acceptable,
Since a falseness is understood.
And not to be permitted.

And...
It becomes more difficult to respond,
To that which has no reality or vision.
It is as if a game of charades exist.
And one acknowledging this,
Rather not participate.
Or observe the nonsense of it!

'You can not force upon me,
What in my heart does not feel is real.
Or perceive to be.
So...
You are correct.
I do not believe you offer to give me,
One hundred dollars.
To do absolutely nothing! '