Ahhh! The masks we are assigned and even some of our own choosing . . . misleading at times to say the least . . . exhibiting laughter and bliss or ugly and scary as hell, masks nonetheless. Working hard always to let others catch a glimpse of who we are on the inside . . . an impossible feat most of the time.
If the eyes, regardless of color, paint, or age, are the window . . . be so revealing . . . the dead, the sullen, pain and suffering, joy and bliss into my soul . . . and I go blind --- then, would my soul shine out through my smile? My voice, my words? And I become mute? Through my touch? And my hands be cut off? To be known by the spirit, no outer shell, no mask, no physical being to judge, such a beautiful concept . . .
It becomes hard to hear from people closest to you, children, family, friends . . . about physical traits altered in the course of life and trama . . . they cannot imagine the reflection, a stranger staring out at them from behind the mirror . . . but it is my reality . . . learning to disern, accept the faults, a new mask . . . always searching the eyes, so happy at a glimpse of my old familiar soul.
~♥~
