Mason Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Mason

Long ago, too eager
I read books as meager
One topic, which I sough
Was "Masons"' freedom.

And today in my car
Sat a man, organized
"Are you of uniform? "
I questioned, agonized.

"I am just a Mason."
He answered; a suspense.

Finally showed his book
Ting yellow, forty-page
Reads as Muslims do
Christians on their way
The Koran; and Bible
Pocket one, softcover.

These people, unlike rest
Do enjoy all the best
They seem to increase
But others fast decrease.

Who are they as truth?
Nationalists or faithful?
To who, what on what base?
They, still, are secret.

Secret love is lovely
Secret work dangerous.