masquerade

In a silence, stunned in a way
the audience, in a theater of a play
watching actors front each other
as faceless facades for a masquerade
with reflections of heaven on cracked mirrors
held and wept on, as if to pay
the debt that mankind makes
every single day.

Another messiah will come
and teach these actors how to act
and teach them to weep and to laugh,
how to tie shoes and
how to save the day.

And the hero will come
by horseback on the last day
with three of his friends
and the other messiah, at the bay.

Faceless facades, faceless actors
for a masquerade.

Cracked mirrors have a penchant
for feeble minds, so to say.
Like playing a cello or a bass -
not merely hard,
but a child’s play.

When the glass breaks
(or so they say)
the masks will comes off
and we will see
who has the prettiest face.