One mask, too many.

And each night, out of nowhere, his shadow emerged. Standing tall in the yellow spotlight. Partly shaken. He would tread along the path, with the yellow beam trailing behind. Flowing, as it were, in solace; the silent darkness his companion.

He would shed the mask he wore the previous day. The mask. Painted, the portrait of his momentary identity, laughing and lively; making the world believe in amusing fables. Bright colors gleaming through the crevices of its masked grin. But then, effortlessly, he let go of it. As if it were unknown. Dropped into the depths, into the half alive remains of numerous such faces.

He stood bare then, then. Unarmed, untouched. Raw. No scratch of paint marking his thoughts. No expressions revealing the world that ran through his mind. His mind, wild unbridled with energy.

For once, he talked to himself, about himself. He danced like a mad man in that space. The rare solitude provided such lofty joy, he could barely explain. What freedom. Calmness cradled him to sleep. Peaceful dreams. Bliss.

But it wasn't too long before the bells of reason seized his composure. He awoke to a pool of masks, waiting to be owned. To be worn. Masks of varied shapes and colors. Demanding duty, compliance.

Without a wink, he slipped into one. A new mask, on a new day. And thus ventured out, like each day. But only to come back each night, to be unmasked.  

Let's start this one real slow.
With no stale thoughts, no old stories.

Let's make colorful formations in the air,
And dance to the blues in the twilight.

Let's walk through wet sand,
With the sun dipping
And cold breeze  hovering all around.

Let's unearth hidden passions,
To etch new dreams, then and now.