The Masks…they do not move, but they seem to speak; the hushed tones of their voices are bizarre.

“There are mystically in our faces certain characters which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherein he that cannot read A, B, C may read our natures.”  Sir Thomas Browne

When I was thinking of what to write about for this week’s theme on “faces,” a dream that I had a couple of years ago, which I refer to as “The Masks,” came to my mind.  To this day the dream puzzles me as it was so full of mystery that I still haven’t quite figured out its meaning.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I do not put a lot of stock in dreams…many of mine are likely conjured up from what I ate on a given evening or how a particular day went.  This particular dream, however, does still haunt my thoughts from time to time, and I wonder what it was trying to tell me…perhaps about myself.

The Masks

An eerie feeling overcomes me

as I step inside the room.

The decor is bright and cheery enough,

but I have this dark, foreboding feeling,

and it’s filling my heart with gloom.

Straight ahead I see the bed, the table, the lamp,

the desk, along side the chair,

But then I turn and there they are!

The four harlequin masks gazing at me;

all with a unified stare.

Why are they here?  What do they want?

So theatrical they are.

They do not move, but they seem to speak;

the hushed tones of their voices are bizarre.

I turn away and leave them be.

I want no part of them, I don’t.

When I look back they’ve vanished, gone!

I should forget them…but I know that I won’t.

Although, “The Masks” have not yet revealed

what their true meaning is for me.

I’ve an idea that they each are a part of myself…

and perhaps that is the true mystery.

Poem by Felecia R. Weber 2014, OntheWingofaDove.com; photographs by Stephen C. Weber, Venezia, 2012.

Peace and love,

Felecia