The Walls of Caves
The window divides me. Outside. Inside.
Reflections, like Plato’s cave, behind me.
I am alone, and unsatisfied.
Outside my window the wind blows, the
rain falls. I want to lean out to see,
I want to find the face that haunts me.
Inside, the doors are closed, the floors
are creaking unopposed. I search my
mind for rhymes that might convince me.
The falling sun dissolves into darkness,
releasing the reflective weight of my
dreams. Again I see that face in my window.
Plato said that love and truth are not
written on the walls of caves. Venture out
into the sun, cast off the weight of these reflections.