Late-night inquiry

Have you introduced yourself to yourself

The way a visitor at your door would?

Have you found a seat in your room

For every one of your wayward selves

To withdraw into their own thoughts

Or stare into space as if it were a mirror?

Do you have a match you can light

To make their shadows dance on the wall

Or float dream-like on the ceiling

The way leaves do on summer afternoons,

Before they take their bow and the curtain drops

As the match burns down to your fingertips?