Masks of Love
No one can unmask love,
The shape shifter, magician,
Master of delusions.
Tell me, When is ”I love you”
Not a mask?
Is love the face of the
innocent child,
The crippled beggar,
The inept seducer, the bride
And anxious, eager groom?
Does love come slowly,
With small tentative steps?
Or like an attack force,
Blitzing, guns ablaze?
Or on the wings
Of a curious looking bird
Graceful and brightly colored
With sharp talons?
Is love everything you
expected to feel
Or is it alternating pulses
Of chill and fever?
Is it a seed growing in you
Like a child?
Is it a fiery burst, petering
out
Before it warms what’s
around it?
No one can unmask love.
So play the part with
intensity
And honesty.
Dance the dance.
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