The Masquerade
She slips on the ethereal gown trimmed with lace,
Levitates before the tall mirror whilst peeking at her face;
After arranging her tresses with a tuck and a pin,
Next she dons the masque that hides the view to within.
To be noticed, yet unobserved-both she desires,
Craving love, yet without exposure, to this she aspires.
For concealed beneath the sequin-flanked frames
Is a heart disfigured by antagonizing shames.
Her mother, a harlot, her father, a rogue,
The life she has led is one only bought-when in vogue.
No person of honor would treat her with grace,
If they grasped the history behind her veiled face.
Yet as the young woman falters by the door,
The royal prince, espying her, does come to the fore,
He gently guides her to the center of the room,
And with a deft motion sets her cheeks in full bloom.
As the evening progresses, her complexion fades to gray,
For she knows the consequences she will face the next day.
The prince, who has remained by her side,
Queries if she would not depart, but bide.
Tears overcome her clouded visage as up she does start,
Begs she for mercy, for she is black of body and heart.
Her sovereign, turning away, hides his own face-
Then whispers, "As I have received, let me bestow-grace".
"My liege, art thou mad?" cries she,
Her pallor beset now by a crimson sea.
"Nay", he replies, "but to look upon the Crucified
Is to utterly know my sin is rectified".
And taking hold of her masque, he speaks,
"Your and my shame He has covered with His cloak,
He will be your righteousness sure
If you cling to His Word-which makes you pure".
The next instant her masque clatters to the ground,
For what was once lost, had now been found!
Dolor succumbs to tears of joyous peace,
As she had been embraced by Love that will not cease!
~Finis~
