Stripped


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If you believe this gift you've got

just be dismissed as afterthought,

or simply is a waste of time,

 disclosing thought in metered rhyme ...

 

...then any questions you might ask

will surely take your soul to task,

for everything you write with care

transcends the cosmos — takes you where...

 

...few others vow they'll never go;

now, take my hand, c'mon — let's go!

Let's journey where the gods have basked,

like Nero's bards, our face unmasked.

 

We all wear masks to hide the truth;

some sneaky, saddened, sullen sleuth —

strip off your mask — come follow me;

through masks the truth is hard to see.

 

Just take my hand, again, I plea,

fly to the stratosphere with me.

Imagination's such a waste,

when what's suppressed has bitter taste.

 

The real you shines, if it's allowed;

shake off the pain, dismiss the crowd.

Expression's never commonplace,

lest masks are used to hide your face.




 

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