TO A MASK
God Who made me
as an individual, made me
as part of a lump.
A lump in a lump in a lump in a lump
and one of the biggest
lumps of all
is the World,
and God is not
the Prince of the World.
Somewhere down the line
the world has got
out of control.
What is it that has got
out of control - that obeys
the wrong god? Is it
a bunch of atoms?
It is Mind. It is what
sees the atoms,
but does it see,
grinning out of itself,
the mask it is wearing
and which is all
the God Who made us
and Who has been strangely fooled -
God the cuckold -
gets to see?
While, under the safety
of that god-facing mask, we
get on with the business
of making money,
unaware that that mask/persona
needs, from both sides
simultaneously,
to be scratched away, and then
lover and beloved can
see each other clearly.