Maybe my voice has been or is just a never-ending echo of poetry once recited in a moment of clarity in which . . no one else could see or has been clear about fears ~ not heard nor recognised denied mocked ridiculed doubted disbelieved how do I defend against that which can't be seen when it's possible I've imagined it all hear ~ my silence scream wrest . . from my chest disguised ~ camouflaged frailties My dark horse . . has always been A Unicorn . ! I long ago once believed that - all there was was me and - nothing else mattered but for the belief . . and come now to realise that belief is not truth belief is but perceptions of our own making truth is ~ well . . it's truth . ! a b s e n t ~ tones colours shades geometry deception penitence contrition bleeding no depth no light no darkness no good no evil no religion no god it just is . ! and so it seems ~ No matter how loud I scream Invisible visibility . . . . © mingoáo - The Writings of Mingoáo Inc. is the exclusive agent, publisher-distributor of the Writings of Mingoáo. No part of the Writings exhibited herein may be copied, reproduced nor transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, not by carrier pigeon, pony express, smoke signal, slingshot, sled dog, not even by alien spacecraft , nor stored by any information storage and/or retrieval system, past, present or future, nor translated, without the expressed written consent of the Author and Publisher. Not to be Copied, Forwarded, Distributed, Shared Nor Transferred.