The Emerald Mask

A mask of emerald with eyes of gold
I saw hanging on a hook in a market stall.
It seemed antique, genuinely old.
Though ordinarily I wouldn't have paused at all,
I found myself lingering, staring at the mask,
And the seller stood and watched me stare.
She did not seem eager to pursue her task
Of selling, but did say, "Is it not fair?"

"Oh, yes, very fair," I said most absently,
Staring at the mask, trying to make it turn
To green paper, the golden eyes' beauty
To something that did not make me burn
With odd fancies to try it on my face.
I had the even odder idea that the empty holes
Where eyes should be were closed in grace,
That they were eyelids concealing eyes like coals.

The woman asked, "Would you like to try
It on?" and I shook my head, recollecting 
That there were clouds on the edge of the sky,
And I had not come to odd masks be collecting.
I turned away, and then found her hand
Locked on my arm, her fingers like bars
Shutting a prisoner off from his native land.
I looked up, and her eyes shone like stars.

I will not try to name what I saw there,
But I stood passive while she whisper-hissed,
"You have never seen a mask more fair;
You were born on earth for a thing like this."
I stood passive while she from the iron hook
Removed the mask, and tightly pressed
It against my face. The mask at once took,
And I felt my heart soar and sing in my breast.

I looked out from behind the emerald mask,
And, as if it were some empyrean fire's tool,
I saw dancing flames everywhere. I could not ask
Why the woman's face shone like a jewel,
Or why every leaf and flower and blade of grass
Had a higher, a purer, a fairer beauty,
As though through them hues by a burning glass
Were set alight, and to see them the mask's duty.

I could do nothing but nod and then stare
When the woman said, "It is yours. Take it."
And I walked away with that mask so fair,
And since then in nowise can I forsake it,
But must wear the mask as often as I can.
The golden eyes encircle, cat-like, my own,
And I have been told I do not look like a man,
But like some prince that long ago and once shone.

And then today I put on the emerald mask,
And the edges rippled like a butterfly's wings,
And molded into to my face; I could ask
Foolish questions, but I see too many things
Gleaming with the brilliance of elemental fire,
Set alight by their own and fiery fairness.
I know now why the mask was my desire:
It granted the road to such radiant awareness.