A man silhouetted against the setting sun
Hides so much in plain view
You cannot see the colour of his clothes
You cannot see the colour of his skin.
To know this man you have to work
Your angle of view hides his true height
You seek something to determine scale
But watch out for the misleading
A man silhoutted against the sun
It’s morning now, the sun is rising
Hiding the day in dawn’s early shadows
Hiding all but the presence of this hidden man
How is it that a silhoutte is so clever
To hide everything except a stance
To rob us of the features that tell us
So much, it leaves us quite blind.
The truth, hiding in a silhouette.