Face Behind The Mask

Face Behind The Mask
© Surazeus
2025 08 28

Trust laughs at how rain floods the silver plain 
with solid evidence of brutal faith 
despite foul murder by the lovely host 
who putters about in garden of flowers 
that bloom from bodies buried in the soil 
of thieves who invaded her cottage at night. 

Rain patters roof of the crooked hotel 
perched daintily atop the skull-round hill 
where battered black car with gleaming headlights 
parks halfway up on the narrow sidewalk, 
windshield wipers squeaking on fractured glass, 
watched by the raven on the broken sign. 

Black boots crunch shards of shattered window glass 
as Samuel pushes open old oak door 
and steps into the lobby with one table  
lit dimly by one almost-burned-out candle 
that flickers madly in the eerie gloom 
to highlight wrinkled face of the old witch. 

One eye blue as the sea after the storm 
glares up at gaunt face of the visitor 
who smiles with sinister joy of the jester 
wearing black fedora and black trench coat 
as he asks if she knows the pastor named Fink, 
but she just taps the sign-in book and sneers. 

The young girl with long blond hair and green eyes, 
who wears cute yellow dress and pink felt hat, 
descends the narrow stairs beside the desk, 
then smiles brightly at the jester in black 
as she unfolds the red rose of her hand 
to reveal the gold grail studded with jewels. 

Though he reaches hand to acquire the grail, 
the star-eyed girl whispers with thunder-soft voice 
that echoes solemn prophecy of fate 
how time will readjust conceptual frame 
programming how our human brains perceive, 
which transforms the grail into the black owl. 

The lovely host appears with tray of tea 
so they all sit at round table of faith, 
the jester, the girl, the witch, and the host, 
to play recurring game of psychic chess 
till jester reveals his face behind the mask 
to be detective from the court of Hell. 

While the wily detective without his mask 
weaves tapestry of crime from random clues, 
the three fates unravel web of his brain 
in writhing tendrils that connect the stars 
through our enormous galaxy in swirl 
of singing angels when he tries to run.