A daily carnival
A thousand faces in the station hall:
gleaming, scowling, mocking,
scurrying past, through and inwardly
in throngs, in pairs or in lonely threnody,
always foreign and yet strangely familiar,
always remote and yet so intimate,
never fully acknowledged
but secretly longing all the same.
The hidden faces always meet again
in different tones, hues and demeanours,
sharing a similar thirst and always searching
for lasting joy and healing community.
The masks are only really worn
So that we may recognise each other
In our preposterous anonymity.
How long will the carnival go on for?
What do the jests and the pouts and the airs really signify?
A thousand lifetimes may not suffice to tell.
Above: A masked couple at the Venice carnival in 2010. Picture credit: Frank Kovalchek from Anchorage, Alaska Wikimedia Creative Commons CC BY 2.0
