Masks

Each man controls his life. That buck stops here.
Or is there yet, some scaffolding unseen
by which Divinity, can peer and steer
a soul to destinies, lavish or lean?
When Death awaits, with warrant at the gate,
one's ownership of self does lose some zest.
Who knows what foul or monkey-feeding fate
yet lurks to jolt a joker on his quest?
My guess would be, the brightest mind includes
a self-eclipsing flare of rarest flame
that justifies how Life's vicissitudes
both try and glorify one's deepest aim.
The final mask we slip on has no face,
portraying and disguising, boundless Grace.