FacadeOfEmotions

A pic I took on my phone in Tennessee while I was there last year.

a picture i took that i like.

I found this on Uncurt's profile:

The Touch of the Master's Hand

It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

And many a man with life out of tune
All battered with bourbon and gin
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.

But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

Myra Brooks Welch

this was sent to me from DelphaicWolf86 thank you so much!

The Mask

We all wear a mask throuhout our daily lives,

We all pretend hidden desires are not there,

We go about typing on our keyboards or answering phones,

We put on the facade of normal until we are home,

Once there we close the door and close the windows,

Some of us stand above others on their knees,

Others fall down upon them and gaze up at us,

Whether on our knees or standing above on thing is true,

We all hide behind the mask during the day,

We all pretend to be normal,

We all act as though uniqueness should be shunned,

We all pretend that the mask doesnt stifle who we are,

I ask why should we pretend to be what we aren't,

Why should we conform to what others say is normal,

Why shouldnt we indulge in our fantasies and desires,

Why must we continue to put on the mask?