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Some Illusions Are Good Friends

Like a woman half-veiled or half-seen,
a face’s arc stirring her bedroom blinds,
like a love never unfurled fully,
never having come to full fruition,
elusiveness emitting the scent
of a premature farewell,
like a memory ever fresh, married
to longing  –
I am.

And more.
Like compassion that withholds some of the truth,
like compassion that withholds most of the truth,
like a star whose love
you wouldn’t be able to bear
I am as well.
Many illusions court your destruction.
Many illusions, too, promote your life.
Go on seeking Me,
tasting a facet here and there
among My countless facets,
and your illusions will nourish your search,
strengthen your resolve and purpose,
some illusions sparing your life and sanity.
If I appear remiss, to be hiding from you, at times,
trust Me: it’s out of compassion,
and some illusions
are your friends.

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