Mask

Bellowed in ones soul he found the truth. Blatantly before the mask of whispered lights, Was the prison of genius minds of every generation. Shadows of the ever fading light creeped in the cells. Bars of uncontrollable outcomes blocked their keepers, But was there a voice? Harping at the residence to silence their time, Figureless actions reached through the gates, Grasping for the whispered lights. Forever in touch with their form, Their song will never be heard. But he knew the truth. Guided by evasive lines he haunted the thought, For his resource would be trapped in the cooler. Frosting the wind of the whispering light, he forged the lines to the gates. Just his past watched as the stained hands formed the bars, but the truth smelted the morning. So he used the truth, Guiding the whispered light to its borrowed time, The gates began to creak. For the lines forged by the morning awoke at the moment of first breath, halting of the muse stopped the keepers, ‘You can see your future.’ Truth slumbered at its peak, the talent was now settled. The two brown suns were no longer set on the horizon, Wardens actions lifted its blanketed view. How the world beyond the twin stars became so clear! For the mask was relieved.