Sunday, March 05, 2006

Hide and Seek




A strange interplay,
Of light and shade.
Leaves cast their shadows,
On my face.
Wind whispers softly,
Into my ears.

Rollover on my back,
Watch the clouds,
Swim about in the air.
In the corner of my eye,
I see you standing there,
But as I turn around,
You are gone.
Who are you hiding from?

A zephyr stirs up,
A bunch of leaves.
Each fluttering,
Shimmering, glimmering,
Golden leaf,
Happy in itself,
Carefree, full of glee.
And then a glimpse of you,
A fleeting glimpse,
Gone in a blink.
Who are you hiding from?
Show yourself to me.

(Photos - A lake in Redwood Shores, Statue of Liberty )

6 comments:

JM said...

I tend to believe that when a person "hides" from another person, the reality is they are hiding from themselves. In short, a person cannot deal with certain inequities about their persona, so they don't show it to others. They aren't hiding from the person they are trying to fool, they are hiding from the reality that they know exists.

Eric said...

I've know people who hide from reality itself, like Angel says. They exist in their own little worlds, oblivious to the truth, and when folks try to break it to them, they somehow can't handle it and retreat back into their own reality, a fantasy world.

the Monk said...

nice pics...nice poem, too...

x said...

okay, because you said you haven't become literal, i won't say what i thought this poem was about.
but it was interesting (both the poem and what i thought) xx

Wriju said...

Angel:
Blissful and content in his world he sees glimpses of reality. Is he hiding from himself too?

Like an apparition she vanishes from his reality. Is it really she who is hiding?

Eric:
Who's world is real? Is that person's world of dreams and imagining less real than your world. Who is to say that yours is not a dream that you cling on to and consider as reality?

Monk:
Thanks...

Chloe:
I'd like to know :-)

Camphor said...

Although I can relate to the takes that Angel and erikku have given... Somehow the 'you' of the poem is a read as a she to me, the ideal, perhaps, what can hardly be seen. For me, the ideal is not something set, it's something I aspire to, and sometimes I think I'm moving blind.

First game, errant child,
Peek-a-boo, you moving blind?