Sculpted. Painted. Dancing. Velvet. Water. The face I see at a point in time. I see so many faces. So many faces see mine. Which one am I seeing? Which one do they see? How many other faces are there in that one face I see? The sun will melt  the sculpted and painted. The wind will unravel the velvet. A flip of a switch will stop the dancing. When each touches the water they will transform to my eyes yet never lose the essence of water.

“So are the many faces mere masks?” I ask the whisper. And the gentle reply “Would you deny the beauty of each? Would you call each one untruth? Hold sacred and with tenderness what your eyes see. Behold…be and hold the face seen by the heart.”