The world's a stage, they say, where roles we play,

But when the curtains fall, and lights fade away,

When no keen eyes observe, no judgment's cast,

Who are we then, with pretense surpassed?

Do masks we don, in shadows dissolve,

Revealing souls, that yearn and evolve?

The polished veneer, the crafted facade,

Do they crumble and fall, like dreams that have trod?

Perhaps we're children, with spirits unbound,

Exploring wonders, without a sound.

Dancing with shadows, in whimsical flight,

Embracing the freedom, of the quiet night.

Or maybe we're poets, with words unexpressed,

Weaving tales, where emotions invest.

Ink bleeds on paper, in hues of the heart,

Unburdened by critique, a brand new start.

We might be explorers, charting the unknown,

Venturing deep, where seeds of truth are sown.

Scaling mountains, of doubt and of fear,

With only ourselves, to guide and to cheer.

Or could we be lovers, of passion's embrace,

Whispering secrets, with time and space.

Tender moments, in solitude's hold,

Where vulnerabilities unfold.

When no one is watching, we're stripped to the core,

The essence of being, we can't ignore.

A canvas of choices, a spectrum of will,

In the quiet of self, our spirits fulfill.

So let the world slumber, and darkness descend,

For in this sanctuary, where truths transcend,

We find the reflection, of who we might be,

The unfiltered answer, to "Who are we?"