Masks

Truth is always in harmony with herself, and is not concerned chiefly to reveal the justice that may consist with wrong-doing. - Thoreau

you tickle blushing, ivories,

but they do not smile

you drag a rosined bow across introverted strings,

but they only sigh

you strum invisible chords of desire,

but they only fuel ashes of a smoldering, funeral pyre

you bang the drum of your soul,

but it can't keep the beat

you sing of love

but where did it go

you conduct the score of a longing heart's operatic repertory

turning the yellowed pages of an old, dear, diary story

still, with only fading masks to show

Author's Note

"After all the field of battle possesses many advantages over the drawing-room. There at least is no room for pretension or excessive ceremony, no shaking of hands or rubbing of noses, which make one doubt your sincerity, but hearty as well as hard hand-play. It at least exhibits one of the faces of humanity, the former only a mask." - Thoreau

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