the mysterious things of this world
are like the shaded alcoves
in a bright hallway
you need to bring the light
but in the cave of yourself
it’s only candles and breezy
making the writings on the walls
extremely hard to decipher
so it’s understandable
when a claustrophobia of ignorance
drives many back out into the dusk
into the late afternoon of I don’t know
the safer
if not acceptable
and less difficult
place to live
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