VIII.How many masks wear we, and undermasks,Upon our countenance of soul, and when,If for self-sport the soul itself unmasks,Knows it the last mask off and the face plain?The true mask feels no inside to the maskBut looks out of the mask by co-masked eyes.Whatever consciousness begins the taskThe task’s accepted use to sleepness ties.Like a child frighted by its mirrored faces,Our souls, that children are, being thought-losing,Foist otherness upon their seen grimacesAnd get a whole world on their forgot causing;And, when a thought would unmask our soul’s masking,Itself goes not unmasked to the unmasking.
How many masks wear we, and undermasks,Upon our countenance of soul, and when,If for self-sport the soul itself unmasks,Knows it the last mask off and the face plain?The true mask feels no inside to the maskBut looks out of the mask by co-masked eyes.Whatever consciousness begins the taskThe task’s accepted use to sleepness ties.Like a child frighted by its mirrored faces,Our souls, that children are, being thought-losing,Foist otherness upon their seen grimacesAnd get a whole world on their forgot causing;And, when a thought would unmask our soul’s masking,Itself goes not unmasked to the unmasking.