Hollowgraphic

Carbon copies of dancing shadows
Are duplicated again and again;
Until it is too late to recognize
That the points of origin, their sources,
Are only ambiguous shells projecting parodies.

I rightly refuse to accept that truth
That they smear and paint on themselves
With false brushes and faded pigments.
I’ll stand erect, unashamed, and free,
Opening myself to the truth that is thee.

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