I was not born this way
so say the judges who critique
the ways of right and wrong alike
not knowing why I am myself

perhaps they’re right in their speech
with all these masks I present
reckoning substance from intent
when shall I strive to show myself?

this path has timing I’ll present
to make straight the twisted ways
unwind the riddle that I present
by living here in your midst

far too early would be brash
not understand by the rest
when the paint is still fresh
comes the leader with none to follow

the muse asks the out reach
to be the moment it was meant
insight given to consider
mediating what must come

we were born to find our way
asked to drop the masks still worn
I’ll do my part with timing’s cure
evoking insight to those still lost.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170716.