Illusion’s Candor

Sounds of sandpaper rubbing-
Walking through drying fields
Drops escaping the puddle
As toes remember their feel.
Noises promise company-
Loneliness weighs on shoulders . . .
Walking up high for peace-
Leaves the body feeling colder.
Pieces fit into the puzzle-
Broken as eggshells on the floor . . .
Knowing something is different
Failing to prove the more.
Regard all hidden realities-
Ending fantasy’s game . . .
And while truth stands in sight-
The mind hides it just the same.