You mystify the obvious,
and force meaning onto stories that,
for the time being,
should be left untold.
It’s confusion so scattered,
it’s a point so lost,
it can’t form into anything,
not even a lie.
Be faceless for a time,
shift your shape in the in-between,
be glorious but unseen.
Scream on the inside,
make your silence so loud
that curious minds start to beg you
to reveal your secrets
But keep them
Spirit of Tara 