Inside the Masquerade: August 2009

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks-

masks that I'm afraid to take off and none of them are me.

Pretending is an art that's second nature with me but don't be fooled,

for God's sake, don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure
That all is sunny and unruffled with me
within as well as without,

that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command, and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. Please!

My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask,
My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
But I hide this.

I don't want anybody to know it.

I panic at the thought of my weaknesses and fear exposing them.
That's why I frantically create my masks to hide behind.
They're nonchalant, sophisticated facades to help me pretend,
To shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only salvation, and I know it.

That is, if it's followed by acceptance, and if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls

I dislike hiding, honestly
I dislike the superficial game I'm playing,
the superficial phony game.
I'd really like to be genuine and me.

But I need your help, your hand to hold
Even though my masks would tell you otherwise
That glance from you is the only thing that assures me

of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.

But I don't tell you this.
I don't dare. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh
and your laugh would kill me.

I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing,
that I'm just no good and you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a facade of assurance without,
And a trembling child within.

So begins the parade of masks,

The glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's nothing
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying
Hear what I'd like to say
but what I cannot say.

It will not be easy for you,
long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.

The nearer you approach me the blinder I may strike back.
Despite what books say of men, I am irrational;
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
You wonder who I am, you shouldn't
for I am everyman and everywoman
who wears a mask.
Don't be fooled by me.
At least not by the face I wear.

Author Unknown.

Let go, let your heart break, let your life be Beauty made visible, let all things awaken you, let your life be Poetry, the music of Truth, the epiphanously idiosyncratic soulsong of significance.

And all the words die so, so soon in an avalanche of Silence, their sound and meaning and audience gone.

But how they danced in their bright sliver of a moment! And how we danced and loved and wept and blazed in our brief time.

The door is, as always, already open. Openness awaiting openness. The invitation that will not go away. We are dying to live. Let us not wait any longer. Let us do what it takes.
There are not higher stakes.

~Robert Augustus Masters