To be the feelings That are clothed by day Covered and hidden From the sight That never sees Just images and silohuettes Transposed from thoughts Perceptions That reflect whispers As meaningless silence And words As concealed moments Never really defining Yet always leaving a reflection Whether left alone Or in fragments Just a sense Of the haunting Just a glimpse Of the twisting Recalling through eyes Which never open The feelings Of a never spoken Stillness Just echoes and moonlight That do fall Revealing questions and pressure Through stages And the quietness of breath A deception of person By the canopy of thought....