I wish

I wish for a world

of authenticity.

Not a real world

(For what is real after all?)

but a world where

what is felt as core

is what is given

for each other.


But the world is not

of authenticity,

as a tree is not of bark,

for to find the core

is the terror of an age

that is all of the bark

and little of the sap.


I wish for a world 

of authenticity 

as I walk in the garden

of this earth.