Masquerade

Was it all naught but a masquerade?
A painted image, a gamed we played?
In all of that time what did we gain
By holding the veil for illusion’s face?


When all that’s left are the memories…

Stored up in places far out of reach,
How can we learn what we didn’t teach,
By starting with famine to build a feast?


Where is the sense in a broken pact,

When nothing replaces what we lack
And pain that weighs on a loved one’s back
Is doubled by want for a selfless act.


There’s no turning back from this cold place

Where none can hope to finish the race
And best has become a slower pace
For one with a heart that shies away.