Masks

I sprinted to the end of the world,
to the darkest swamps of the abyss
and the highest summits,
yet my visage
is weighed down
by the desire for validation
and is burdened
by the weight of the masks.
I painstakingly peel them layer by layer
but they reconstruct themselves
in the blink of an eye
like the heads of the hydra.
 
On a clear day under the sky,
when all is lost
and I am stripped naked
in a crowded arena,
I shut my eyes tightly
and ride on the rays of the sun
to the edge of space and time.
From such pristine majesty, 
I bounce back
to swim through the murky waters
and to wash away the fog of the mind.
 
The wax melts from the face,
the head feels lighter,
and the soul is baptized
in the crystal-clear waters
of a brave new world.