Glass
cabinets hide their treasures
behind
transparency, deceptive
they
are like Poe's letter,
concealed
by presence
rather
than absence.
They
deny the reality of dust
motes
in the gaze
of
a hundred eyes peering
through
refractions
that
presume imagination.
The
minds behind the eyes
draw
the stories they choose
from
the images they think
they
see, figments of a world
remote,
yet intimate.
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