Photography

A snapshot captures my essence,
yet, might it portray deceit?
Narratives split truth in question.
In stillness, what does it repeat?

A moment frozen, a silent witness,
to the soul's quiet retreat.
Does it hold my genuine presence,
or is it merely a facade, incomplete?

In the frame a world suspended,
a visage of smiles so sweet.
But behind the lens, what's intended?
Do shadows and light competently meet?

A picture's worth a thousand words,
so they say, but I entreat.
Can it convey the songs of birds
or the heart's every ardent beat?

For every click a story untold.
A life's myriad facets greet
in hues of sepia, silver and gold,
a composition seemingly neat.

Yet, within the borders what's held,
is it victory or defeat?
A narrative boldly propelled
or a silent, surreptitious, cheat?

A snapshot captures my essence,
a slice of time, oh so fleet.
But ponder, upon its presence,
does it truth or illusion secrete?

So gaze upon this captured scene
and with a discerning eye, critique,
is it a genuine, unvarnished sheen
or does the truth play hide and seek?

Narratives split, truth in question,
in this gallery of life antique,
each photo a unique section
of the human spirit, unique and mystique.