The Stage is Set

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The stage is set
The scène prepared
Enter the Actors
The Players
No waiting.
Without warning
Right on cue
At the drop of a hat
It begins.
Send in the Clowns
-No Jokers-
For it is a farce
This stage we walk on
Treading the Boards
As though we mean something
To The Gods
-The Master Puppeteers-
Pulling our strings
To Their amusement…
Arrayed above us
Sometimes walking amongst us
Just to laugh
Or spur us on
To Their pleasure
Never deceiving us
Yet allowing us
To Believe…
There is some greater purpose
To our being
Other than Clay Pots
Vessels
Into which They pour Their piss
Like rain from Heaven.
And we must learn to Dance in the rain
And count ourselves honoured
Blessed…
To be so pissed upon.
The Stage is Set
And cannot be altered
Or changed.
It is the will of the Gods.
And They must have an Audience
With Man
-The Great Pretender-
Play-Thing of The Gods
A piece on a Chess Board
With which They wage War
Until bored
Or sated
And They need us no more.
Cast aside
Laid away
Forgotten…
‘Til stirred or Awakened
Once more
They call us to Action
And we must Up
And obey
-We have no choice-
For what else is there
But this Clap-Board-Walk
We call Earth?
-The Revolving Stage –
And the tiny Timed manoeuverings
We call Life?
So the stage is Set
And we Perform
And the best we can do
Is give OURSELVES some pleasure
For the Gods are not there to please us
But yet may Applaud our Demeanour.

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