The Actor

THE ACTOR He in his life had played so many parts Enriched them with beguiling vocal essence Those icons wrought: of such an incandescence They still excite a lifting of our hearts Yet with a sadness that he was beset Averring that, save characters deployed Down deep within lay nothing but a void That he was but a hollow marionette But there he had unwittingly perceived A fundamental truth of our true being We can assert a part in life decreeing We are not merely what is preconceived A character compelled by rods and strings Requires direction by a puppeteer He who plays a part may yet the drama steer Breath life into a role, and give it wings If given choice: to be of nature planned With form determined by another mind Or take multiple parts to be refined I choose the patterns drawn by my own hand The being that we are and give credential Is not a cast of clay manipulation But godlike spirit blessed to make creation A void with an unlimited potential