A Stage Exists Someplace
When players voices no longer ring,
A set becomes a shabby thing —
Forgotten dreams, an unreal town.
It’s time that we should pull it down.
But I pause to reminisce a while.
I said my lines with frown or smile,
To fit the action; but now it’s past.
My little victories could not last —
In barren disarray they lie
With all the dreams that passed me by.
I shudder at time’s implacable pace.
Yet I know a stage exists someplace
Where I shall say my lines again
And sing of things that might have been
Where nothing holy is cast away,
And secret dreams shall have their day.
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Take for instance Mary; she
shocked by some divine insistence.
Yet the experience of God,…
Butterfly, who taught you
Your exotic dance?
Who made your wings melodious?
Rocks that block the mouths of tombs
Give sermons of great gravity
On the benefits…