Behind closed curtains, a whisper of a phrase,
"Do the curtains match the drapes?" they say.
A query shrouded in metaphor's haze,
Seeking truths in shadows, come what may.

Curtains drawn, they hide the light,
Guarding secrets in their pleats so tight.
But drapes, they frame the soul's pure sight,
A window to the heart, in day and night.

Do appearances align with what's within?
Do outward shows mask what's beneath the skin?
A riddle posed by those who peer in,
Wondering where the truth begins.

Do the curtains match the drapes, my friend?
In this life's stage where roles transcend,
Look beyond the surface, and you'll comprehend,
The harmony of self, where real truths blend.