The masks we wear

and the shimmers we hold.

For the many selves we carry, and the masks that feel like skin.

What are the masks we wear?

If not the truths we tame,

and the lies we claim.

—

What are the selves we build?

If not the voices we bury,

and the echoes we become.

—

Some days —

I am the sun,

I hold the hope and the harvest,

I carry all that is me.

—

Some days —

I am the moon,

I reflect the light and what’s left,

I borrow what I cannot be.

—

Some days —

I am the flicker on a weary day,

I let the world see me ablaze.

—

Some days —

I am a waning candle,

I let the world steal my flame.

—

And still,

The masks remain.

And still,

I hold within,

Shimmers of you,

And shimmers of me.