Mask

The pen dances swiftly across the page.

Words written, letters drawn.

What drives this mighty force?

The hand, the mind, or a soul divorced

from the mundane routine of normal life?

A world of fiction masks the truth.

Or does it set it free?

Are we more ourselves in ordinary life?

Or when we take to flight behind the mask.

Freedom is given in anonymity.

The courage to do things when no one can see.

Is the courage in the act, or the thought?

In living or in death?

Is suffering the way of all things?

Do we truly live only to bleed?

Or is life a joy to be lived?

Does god have the answers?

Or does he leave the mysteries in the hands of man?