Not a new metaphor by any means but this is my take on the theatre of life. Another poem, belatedly, written for Punam’s dVerse prompt of using opening lines to books as closing lines to poems. This one is “Here is a small fact: You are going to die” from The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.
Act 1, Scene 1:
Scriptless and shoved onstage mid-scene,
hot lights glaring;
applause and judgment circling
for lines never rehearsed.
And yes,
every actor exits,
no matter how fierce their monologue.
A trapdoor beneath every spotlight.
The curtain falls without exception.
Act 1, Scene 2:
Between the acts of this cabaret
there is that strange, unchoreographed stretch;
where the stage lights hum
and the lines grow thin in our hands.
And those unscripted pauses,
those missed cues and improvised lines…?
They are only the bright, temporary glare,
the hush before applause or silence,
Act 2, Scene 1:
and the quiet truth
that for a moment,
against your choosing…
you were here
in the light.
Act 2, Scene 2:
You owe the audience nothing.
You are simply here, for a brief while,
and your time is yours to fill
or to simply endure, as you must.
No obligation,
only the raw,
temporary fact of existence itself.
Act 2, Scene 3:
Birth – a brutal act that makes me wonder, ‘why?’
Finale:
Here is a small fact:
you are going to die.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
1994ever 