We talk in code to ourselves.
We hide our faces.
We put our armor on in the dark.
We don’t waste our time with mirrors.
Instead we wander within the silver linings of our own reverie.
A child plays with a purple dinosaur in a sandbox;
he imagines worlds from long ago
(now vanished if they ever existed at all).
We hear a voice.
It is our own.
We no longer sleep with the dead.
The night makes everything whole again.
The stars peek out at us from behind a curtain.
They see us before we see them.
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