Of Mankind's Hypocrisies. Poem by RIC BASTASA

you try to hide your shadow
under a tree
at night when the fireflies
have not arrived with
their Lucifer lights,

the moon comes in the silence
of its rules
the shadow must come out
from its safe hiding place
to bask under the care of its
not so glaring lights
like a persuasion of the
caring mother of your past,

the night is fresh with its
air from the sea
it smells the perfume of
flowers that bloom only
in the darkness of its cares,

'come to me' says the body to its shadow
' it is time to play' begs desire.

the shadow is naked
it is like the truth
it always represents
the real you dressed
with all the fine clothes
of mankind's hypocrisies.