what lives within our pulsing heart
and web of veins
through captivating paintings
and flurries of laughter.
We are skilled artisans indeed;
excelling in our craft
of play pretend.
a glimpse has become a rare occurrence;
the sighting into the garden of one’s soul.
only this can assure an unforbidden entrance.
But the key is hidden
or tucked between petal and thorn,
who may know.
Our gardens are surrounded-
or rather caged-
by lofty gate and walls.
Indeed we believe
we are master deceivers.
We continue on as if all is flowers,
when there is a storm brewing in our heads.
We proudly wear our masks
beautiful hideous masks
upon beautiful painted faces.
So it seems
we will never come to realize
that the only one fooled by our exhibit of art
is our reflections.