It’s fragile,
This fabric wov’n on the loom of life.
So much not said, unshared, undone
Adds stress, does strain, builds strife.
We move along behind the veils
That privately we weave
To shield ourselves from falsehoods, truths,
Those others might believe.
We craft elaborate screens and scenes,
Essential to deceive.
But on and in our skin, it’s wrong
We know, and so we grieve.
Assumptions,
Eccentricities,
Duplicities,
Unshed
Will gnaw like moths, voraciously,
Destroy our silken thread.
And if the veils come wafting down
Aloft on judgment’s winds,
We hope the truth stands tall,
Prevails
And then the real us wins.
