All The World’s A Stage
November 4, 2012
He stood behind the floor lengthened curtain that was draped in the smugness of devoured blood
His hand vivid with trembles, his eyes swallowing the crowd,
Whilst the crowd sat ready to swallow him.
Sweat began a slothful waltz across his brow and below his nose,
And dread and tears formed the shape of conniving silver pointed at his will.
Powerless, hand to breast, he fell to knee.
He tried to think, to feel, to sip a pinch of air,
When suddenly in the belly of fearful equivocation,
The whispers of Athena plagued his heart and erected his spirit.
Truth cavorted with realization, awakening him to the actuality of his pain
It was organized internal bleeding that was the cause,
The teething birth pains of greatness decided upon a superior path too sizable for limited veins.
So amid the watchful muzzled silence he burst on to center stage
Possessed by the clairvoyant kiss of Shakespeare he drew his voice and slashed the carotid arteries of the crowd,
And infused their jugulars with the life force of God.
And as he resurrected he saw himself moving above, below and through them;
For desperation had not a place to travel but to the edge of his limbs and to the forefront of their hearts.
A performance, that shattered glass, made clouds weep and brought the dresses to their feet.
A clamorous crowd filled with the running black eyes of weeping women oblivious to their smeared faces;
He took a bow, walked off stage and was filled in all the empty places.