Life has masked the years
that have tumbled through
my eyes, masked by the
event of being, of loving,
of feeling pain, of laughter,
masked by the stare of thousands
of minutes peering into the future,
remembering the past, waiting
for the next shade of evening,
a view of distant approaching
headlights down this dusty lane
that I have walked as I trod toward
that inevitable point of reason,
knowing when the mask is removed,
the eternal night without a dawn begins.
Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 