the masks are worn but still remain as true as in the early day but when we move beyond the instant second then the groove has changed and there's no power to renew what was ill-made by any human view the which we have no right to disapprove rather to wait as others would remove our final hope with the bright morning dew behind each mask no ordinary face but visage bearing some immortal sign come down to us from the ancestral race as sign and symbol of a truth divine for who we are and for the paths we tread the times are clear and the meanings dread