All the World's a Stage

The crescendo of this city, the soundtrack to our lives. Curtains close each night, until the audience arrives. Each day the same routine, an encore that never ends. The cast forever changing, as we discover new friends. Destiny becomes the poet, old scripts for us to recite. Line after line we entertain, and sleep in heaven's delight. An orchestra simply leads, our futures through a song. Behold a rolling snare drum, at the moment we are wrong. Near the final performance, just before we take a bow. We think of past renditions, of everything we would allow. It is not about the roses, that all our loved ones throw. The real stage, inside a box, is where we steal the show.