Masquerade

Where is love which lasts forever?
Summer now gone, autumn bring
winter storms.
Dreams soon forgotten lay quietly
dormant in a lake frozen over
by winter's handiwork.
Memories, like sand transported
far from the shore,
Will soon lose their way to the
ocean's bottomless floor.

Like actors on a stage we rehearsed
our lines so well,
Leaving no move we made to mere chance.
Each syllable and gesture so meticulously
premeditated without thought, yet well worked out
Long before the curtainn rose
we were lost in a maze,
Victims of our own masquerade.

Inner motives masked by overflowing feelings
like a volcano erupting or lightning striking
with no warning.
Lava burning, consuming the tightly woven
spider's web,
Our life together once entangled and trapped,
We are now free of our own masquerade.

by Frank Cadillac

Comments (1)

An honest insight into the often masked raging rivers within.