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‘All the world ‘s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.’  (As You Like it Act 2, Scene 7)

(A Sonnet Inspired by Shakespeare)

The Hollow Stage 

We slip upon a stage unmade by hands,
as viewers eyes like spotlights burn above.
Our script is scrawled in fusain as per plans 
of carved agonies, most disguised as love.

Our opening verse in screams and gasps for breath,
then crawl through acts of mischief and of pride.
A longing laced libretto until death,
while swapping roles in masks we wear to hide.

The victim dies, the set with danger fraught,
the hero fails, the clown cries on the scene.
Elusive dreams are cheaply sold and bought.
Our exits come abrupt, precise and clean.

We play our parts yet know the truths engage,
that curtains fall and hollow is the stage.

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