Magicians at the outer edges,
of soothing lines of liquid gold,
enchanted forests
of mystic dreams,
of beauty in the glassy lakes,
alluring arms
of mythical nymphs,
bringing eyes and hearts
to the surface abound
with sentries stationed
at the glossy gates,
shielding them from
entering inside
and finding the truth
that lies within,
the house of the beast,
the face that hides in the midst
of mechanical smiles
and plastic tears,
disconnected from the
outer edges,
the ingredients of the soul
of a manufactured beauty
far below the dazzling surface.
“Beware gentlemen
of the new order,
you among the
rest of humanity,
hopeless judges of the
good and bad,
enraptured by the glossiness,
trapped in the arms
at the surface,
find your way out and
look at the beauty again
and see its internal bewitchery.”