The Comedy In Forms

No tale could prepare the trespasser
For waking up outside his skin
No lanterns, no whispers
No coach and horses to deliver him . . .

No one will miss the wanderer
For to all eyes he shall return
A brazen mask for a captive crowd
Deceived at every turn.

For one such purpose unknown
Outside the hidden circles of stone
This town has never seen my true face
Perhaps that is why they fear me so . . .

Seen vaguely as another face
Unassuming oh so forgettable
Fits perfectly the traitor’s role . . .

Come, would I ever let you see
All the things that I was supposed to be
I shall place one of my masks upon your face . . .

It is easy to tell the whole truth
To an enemy who cannot fathom true
They will not attempt to catch him out
Even when he wants them to.

Shift, Swap, swindle and stare
What we are I do not know or care
I shall let my portrait show
In a trick of the light an impenetrable halo.

I shall place one of my masks upon your face . . .

Humanity is a comedy of forms
That all become ashes and writhing worms
Existence, a joke. It’s plain to see
Plain to see, it is my decree
All comedians are we!