Red-Haired Mask

With long-glazed eyes you worship bittersweet shadows;

You were never told

That these, the only things you saw, would give you

What you could not hold.

You have not dreamt of man's gods stranger than shadows;

You do not know

That sunlight has sorrow, that night is only a

Reincarnation of snow.

And we, the artists who see you - beautiful, haloed,

Swing through infinity

Pitying the man whose blindness carved you so that

You could not see.