Harlequin sings a song of himself
Harlequin sings a song of himself; he sings,
I am the wolf that prowls by pale moonlight.
I am the phantom stranger who knocks at your door
and slips unnoticed into your dreams.
I am the goose that flies far from its home.
I am a thing of many pieces, stitched together
in the semblance of a man, but I remember
– oh the curse of a memory which even fairy wine cannot obscure –
yes, I remember what came before
and remember what is yet to happen.
I am the clown of god, a thing to be simultaneously feared and laughed at.
I am not real but I will never die.
I am you when you put the mask on to become me.
by Fiona Husch
The curtain rises
And you don your mask
though your painted face remains bare.
The Flirt you become.
The Brazen you become.
Your mind whirs
While your shadowed eye winks.
The Manipulator you still are.
The Brains you still are.
You care not for the opinions
Of any other except His.
For only the man in the mask
Can see behind yours.