The Greatest Masquerade

People spinning, whirling, dancing,

intricately stepping, sliding past each other,

apologies murmured when one foot hits another,

a quick look around to see if the mistake was caught

then the show comes back on in the span of an instant

the smiling, laughing, sparkling.

Amplified reflections and wishes are glued and stuck together,

held up to guard everyone else from the window,

the curtains are drawn for a reason.

Maybe not yours, but most definitely the ones you look to.

The music is loud, deafening,

a weak attempt to block out the brewing storm,

falling branches, sharp air and pushing winds.

It might induce worry, it might make them scared,

might make them drop their mask, or miss a step.

So it is swept away in a gust of perfume and jewelry and bright shiny things.

Suddenly, ignorance is happiness, at least by comparison.

As the sun gets bored of the elegant display, as soft afternoon turns to a rough twilight,

‘Don’t drop your mask’ becomes a mantra,

whispered under strained voices.

They only keep the plastic over their eyes  

so that they may continue the dance, even if it is not pleasant

it is what has been made an aspiration,

and surely the reward will be great, that’s what they say

As the time falls deeper into the void,

stars become direction.

Watching indirectly at the ceiling,

chandeliers twinkling so much better than simple dim candles

And so puppets keep dancing,

limbs rigid, holding up the mask, and stepping aside,

in order to not be in the way,

not noticed,

never to be noticed,

in fear of dropping the Greatest Masquerade