I start the morning with a mask
put on my face at dawn’s edge
it will stay until I sleep
in the lair of my retreat

the one chosen does depend
on the tasks near at hand
the high or low call my name
both are part of the divine

**** or saint, perhaps both
sides of a coin that may be flipped
while in the air both exist
the telling comes with experience

if you wink they that may change
first the holy and then the sin
each is satisfaction’s quest
feeding souls or damning them

it all depends on appetites
emotion’s draw to either side
feeding at the trough of life
satisfaction is the result

you’ll see the frown or the grin
etched on my mask to relay
how I wish for you to see
the day embraced, the fiend I’ll be.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170909.