As actors take stage, patterns merge and entwine.
Not shapes, nor in lines, but in whispers to the mind.
Through a foreseeing lens, light dances in the dark.
My sight, transmogrified. Truth leaving its mark.

Actors step with intent, and I see the revelation.
Their movement, like spears, into my imagination.
The audience watches in awe and spellbound.
Confusingly, I conclude scenes without sound.

These masks hide faces I somehow can know.
Like whispers to my ear, or secrets thus told.
A treasure trove of truth that is buried in the lies.
The creator of this world is showing me all that hides.

The stage becomes dim, the actors in place.
A dark, twisted tale with an ending I can taste.
Curtains fall and I whisper, to the Que of a song.
“I’ve seen all these outcomes. Why can’t I be wrong?”


© Derek 'Abraxas Rebxrn'