Identity Crisis

My shadow is as lithe as the light inside
no matter my faltering step.

I look to an all knowing sky
for answers. The moon greets me
with a grin.

Such communication is unsure;
Reconstructed it seems to prove
that less leaves us with questions.

Even the vanilla scented candle
flickering from my bureau sends
smoke signals I don’t understand.

The mirror returns my stance word for word
with only minor interpretation; even that
might be illusion.

Shine light, shine
Share your illumination.

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