Three Venetian Masks Upon A Tableau

My pensive mind, and heavy eyes, I rest upon a tableau... Whence three golden masks peculiarly emerge: Some static antique fashion; each one with their age; Seemingly, —a couple, embracing their little child, Bound with batiks scarves around their heads: Loosely folded orange-ochre, and kaki tapestry, Asymmetric filigree, spiralling in liquid gold, As if, their abstract bodies dissolved upon the black décor: Intense, with sharp, shimmering crystal-drops Surrounding their faces—sparking in obscurity: Those hollow-black and lidless eyes of deep concave... And the lamp-light beneath, diffuses an eerie mushroom In beams of pastel-pink—illuming their faces more! — And I, transfixed I sit, in the darkness of the room, Feeling their presence in the night, above the light, As if, in an hypnotic admiration, contemplation... Fascinated by their magic, by their beauty: — They are mysterious, lovely, but so lonely! O so sad...for the crystal-drops upon their cheeks, Resemble a falling stream of glassy tears.