In the Museum of Masked Figures
Supine ink sea spreads far searching for the skyline,
shore’s sheen allures the curling waves to adorn
the sun-soaked blonde beach with strings of pearl.
Surfing winds surge, can’t whisk sands from my hand,
I build castle on the shore, I’m not a far off island.
Windows open on the wide visage of the world,
each new sunburst day comes in my life tinged,
turns to silvery stream of dream in full-moon night.
If you search for my sunk love flowing you past,
you’ll find my heart afloat, I’m not an opaque recluse.
A bird of rhapsody, I fly in the seamless smoky sky,
soar on the winter music of the frosty wind.
I can still see the shining slice of sun in my heart,
melting my chilled passion that cascades on you.
You can hold me, I’m not a frigid glacier.
Turning times’ insane show has not ended yet,
spotlights glare on the transformed facades of fraud,
finding fake place to survive in the archive.
I walk confused in the museum of masked figures,
a mute misfit, I’m not a wooden antique.
_____________
Written August : 9, 2019
December 30, 2022
Contest : A Freed Verse
Sponsor : Brian Strand
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