Blindness

I wish I had a scrying glass globe
To probe into the secrets hidden in the deepest chambers of the heart, or perhaps, to peel away that wearisome mask.
When the mimes mime in masquerade square.
Just as the firelight sparks in the sky, and the air is filled with freedom.
You say to set me free, gentle stranger, and the fires leave but a screen of smoke in the sky.

I watch from above, casting no shadow, the light of the moon paints me silver.