The Great Pretending

 Why do I pretend to be what I am not?

A question that echoes in every thought.

For a lifetime I’ve worn many masks,

Each fitted well for worldly tasks.

I smile when sorrow grips my chest,

I speak of peace with unrest.

Not just I — look around and see,

A sea of souls, mirroring me.

We play our parts upon this stage,

In youth, in love, in grief, in age.

The roles may change, the core may rot,

But none admit what they are not.

Together, we form a shifting tide,

A silent God we hold inside.

The sum of lies, the hopes we plot —

Becomes the God of “what we’re not.”

And God? A mirror vast and wide,

Pretending still, with cosmic pride.

Omnipresent, all-knowing thought —

Is but the face we never caught.

So I pretend, and you do too,

In layers thick, we pass as true.

But somewhere deep, beyond this lot —

Is not the lie, but what is not

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