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The applause is a mere echo as the audience makes their way out of the dimly lit theatre. The last act is over, the play is done. The velvet curtain shelters me in its musty cocoon as I stand alone on the darkened stage.
I have worn many masks and played many roles. I’ve hidden behind this façade so long that I no longer know who I am. There has been one charade after another, full of pretence and illusion. My life has been a stage full of characters in costume.
I have become too good at deceiving and now all I see is a tangled maze of twisted truth. The outer layer conceals someone few have known. Not one of the masks is who I am.
It’s not that I want to lie. The masks allow me to be whatever others want me to be. I am safe within its shell. An act, a role, a masquerade, paraded upon this man-made stage.
Life has been a dress-rehearsal, a stage upon which I acted; a place where actions mimed louder than words. My real voice was never heard. The last mask slips and falls.
Sudden clapping startles me and from the darkened theatre a Voice calls out, “Would you come and work for Me,
I have a play written just for you?”
I reach for my mask but He stops me. “The mask is part of the signing fee. No pretend, no shielding wall, no masks are needed, none at all.”
The Playwright has crafted a script built on truth and reality. The authenticity of its plot unravels the lies that every critic has brought against this poor player of the stage.
The Playwrights simple acceptance reveals the truth that once I was lost but now am found.
What I thought was my life undone I now see that it is a life reborn.
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