They say you never know
just who you are
until you sit with darkness
all around,
but I think differently.

What we become            

alone

                            is no measure for humanity.

isolation throws our shadows into focus,
brings out the demons
where they can see to play;
but that 'self' is no more true
- and no less -
than when we laugh with the
companions of our fight

if you want to see your own face
truly,
and not in a carnival mirror
you must be willing to find a
kaleidoscope
of
answers.

some are masks, and some are
true;
some are old, and others
new;
some we have as ****** upon us,
some we craft with hands made new,
hewed from sinew, heart, and realized
with ***** soles...

Some of our faces are beautiful.
Some aren't.
Some of our faces have broken.
Some healed.
Some of our faces are worn out and tired imitations of what they ought to be, and some of our faces are clean.

Some of our faces are seen only in the dead
of night.
Some of our faces...
                                         ...well, some of them are a
beautiful impression, so we use them more often,
and try to forget the breaks
that happen in between.

All are true, and all are you. Don't let the
hidden faces
you wear in secret
define you.
You are more. No less, it is true.
But more.

God! Far more than those.