Plato's Cave

A poem I wrote, with a message hidden in the poem somewhere. Can you find it?

Obdurant, the flames flicker, turn and flicker still

Narcose and stupefied, the men watch the shadows 

Like light on water they are made and set, but shift

Yellow light touches the rock behind them

Yellow light touches the manacles

On the contented prisoners' necks and feet

Upon the stand, behind the screen

Cherished for their abilities to make shadows, they sit

And move the false shapes to colour the thoughts of

Narcoleptic, imprisoned minds

Fiction-masters, half-truthers, secret-keepers

Ruling as long as others are sedated

Every movement of the shadows sedates them

Ending one phase and entering another

Yet shaken by the change, the shift in the rocks around him

One finds his manacles mangled and broken, and

Ultimately realises his freedom

Reaching out, he begins the ascent

Slipping once, twice, until he meets the fire at last

Even though the light of true day shines upon his hunched form

Little attention can he pay to it yet, as the light is too

Virulent for him yet to comprehend, but the

Empty falsities of the shadows he now sees before him, and he looks back and

Sees his friends, his family, watching them play out their little dramas contentedly.

The End

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