I am an exile,
and I am blind.
I am never to know my face,
but I shall in time know these masks I shape.
I am an exile,
and these masks will not make me whole.
I am blind,
but these masks will not grant me sight.
yet
I shall know them,
and
with nurture they will grow;
for
through them
I shall make my mark on this world of visage forsaken.
This farce will soon be over,
but the masque has only just begun.