Alas ! It no longer remains, that cherub- like, innocent, cherry face ! When at times it can be seen, Through those sparkling, dark eyes, God himself peeping out from within !
For it is rather unfortunate, And we generally blame our fate, Since the face with which we are born, Is not the face which we die !
As we keep growing up, Surrounded by more hawks than doves ! Our experiences are not always what we love ! Shaped by our attitudes, environment and interactions, Our likes, dislikes and reactions, Our face mirrors various impressions we gradually imbibe; And we put on the mask to cover and hide, Our true thoughts and feelings that dwell inside ! With artificial laughter and deceitful words, Never letting the right hand know, What the left hand does !
And with time, this mask gets slowly set, Becoming a part of us to share our fate ! We participate in life's fancy dress ball, When our true face is not seen, or shown at all !
With old age approaching, we become richer still, More wealthier than Egyptian Pharaohs and Kings, For whom those artisans of the past, Skillfully designed their golden death mask ! But we lesser mortals are more fortunate, For time and nature takes on this task; And moulds our final death mask ! The face with which we are born, Is not the face with which we die !
