It’s a fallacy, ‘to be or not to be’
actors strutting and pouting across
a stage, their black shoes burning
holes into the painted wood,
Their words lacking conviction
each action, merely an action,
but it’s what they have to work with
that holds the key, he secret ecstasy,
The escape route from Hell
Knowing that, given the choice,
‘to be’ is not where the scales will
settle. We are wanderers clutching
at straws of adventures, but we will
pick the short one, eventually
Where then do we go? When there is
no ladder made of gold to climb.
no pearly gates nor a wizardly,
kindly face
‘The play’s the thing’
wherein we catch
the conscious of
ourselves
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
It’s a fallacy, ‘to be or not to be’
actors strutting and pouting across
a stage, their black shoes burning
holes into the painted wood,
Their words lacking conviction
each action, merely an action,
but it’s what they have to work with
that holds the key, he secret ecstasy,
The escape route from Hell
Knowing that, given the choice,
‘to be’ is not where the scales will
settle. We are wanderers clutching
at straws of adventures, but we will
pick the short one, eventually
Where then do we go? When there is
no ladder made of gold to climb.
no pearly gates nor a wizardly,
kindly face
‘The play’s the thing’
wherein we catch
the conscious of
ourselves
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