Mirage

O search not for a rare applause, Beware, life is a thankless stage— It's vain, a loud uproar to cause On this voyage of pilgrimage, A puppet you are, caught in cage. Vain to think you’re a great actor, You know the plot, nor script nor end, Watch out, Fate’s a poor director, As clown, no great role shall ye land, As puppet, pulled by unknown hand. ________________________________ Musings | 05.09.2015| Quintain Poet’s note: We might think we are great actors, while in truth we are no more than clowns in the eyes of a spoilsport called Fate, Fortune, or Destiny. Man is then no more than a clown who hopes to hear applause on life’s stage that proves a vague hope, a mirage. For, life offers no programme; the director of the stage-play gives no script; the destiny provides no prompt. And still, he must perform in hope for an applause that seldom materializes.