we conceal ourselves

Like cuttlefish we conceal ourselves, 

we darken the atmosphere in which we move; 

we are not transparent. I pine for one to whom

 I can speak my first thoughts; thoughts which

 represent me truly, which are no better and no worse than I; 

thoughts which have the bloom on them, which alone 

can be sacred and divine. Our sin and shame 

prevent our expressing even the innocent thoughts 

we have. I know of no one to whom I can

 be transparent instinctively. I live the life of the cuttlefish; 

another appears, and the element in which I move is tinged 

and I am concealed. My first thoughts are azure; 

there is a bloom and a dew on them; they are papillaceous feelers

 which I put out, tender, innocent.

 Only to a friend can I expose them.

~ Henry David Thoreau

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