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
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