The Last Mask to Fall.

I have worn their hands

like borrowed cloaks,

thanked the shadows for gifts

that were never mine.

Money offered, clothes folded,

all soaked with hidden currents,

the silent theft of my spirit

draped in kindness.

But today

I rise in the stillness of fasting,

a pilgrim through realms

where nothing stays hidden,

and the quiet wind of truth

guides each step.

I see the mask I wore

to appease the world,

the mask that whispered safety

while hiding my fire.

Now I leave it on them

while I walk bare,

my truth pulsing in my veins,

my power untamed,

blood and gifts no longer strangers

to my knowing.

Every door closes behind deceit,

their heavens turn to brass,

and like their money,

so much pride in it,

it grows wings and flies away.

And beneath the surface,

the river of me flows,

silent yet unstoppable,

revealing what cannot be stolen,

my soul wide open,

my essence striking

like lightning through the veil.