A face is only a face
When captured on screen
But if instead it casts a shadow
On drafting pencils, graph paper
Crumpled tissues and sore hands
If it twists and furrows in the rising dawn
Dawn after dawn of
Pursed lips, strained eyes
The wild contortion of almost knowing
Of edging towards a Truth
And then losing it completely
Until one dawn when that Truth is suddenly before you
And you can finally collapse in sweet
Release
In that precise rapturous moment
Of understanding
You forget you have a face
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