The curtains lift, the stage is set, my eyes open too view grandstands full. I feel the pull to engage what is written.
Reading what’s between the lines I embark on a journey full of trials and victories.
On display is a story which originated in the thoughts of eternity; a story branded upon the hearts which beat with fierce desire, speaking, a beautiful ballet shrieking;
Time is a stage.
Life- the manipulation of words on a page.
“Stick to the script”, is what they say to me; they want me bound to these black letters on page, these black letters that rage, confined to a two dimensional cage.
(excuse the rhyming I’m trying to gauge my timing)
Moving in fluent motion, choreographing a toxic potion, this is a performance for the ages worthy of creations praises.
Swollen with emotion I unleash passion instructing it to feast on what I imagine.
This gesturing is everything hidden in a character phasing from scene to scene.
Different back drops and props add flare to what’s on display: tragedy, success, struggle and joy all laid bare in symphony,
is it me or the actor you see, participating in the greatest show on opening night under the scrutiny of condemning lights,
my supporting cast lifts me passed the climax in this adventure to rest in conclusion.
In seclusion, behind the scenes, I reenact the theatrics of the past, thinking, knowing I gave a lifetime in each line– my thoughts are interrupted by a thunder of applause– then my name is mentioned in roll-call, “I’ll be there square, center stage”, I say, responding to the call of praise,
as the curtains raise…,
Once again– Life’s a stage….