03-19-2015, 06:53 PM
In mother’s arms, he starts to see
the stage on which he plays.
Wide-eyed and free, begins to dream;
the crowds will come some day.
For want of part, he acts to fit,
a vapid Hamlet roams.
Green actors’ thirst, grows truculent
dull pang for greatness moans.
Transcending now, his show robust
gold words from Shakespeare’s kiss.
The crowds have come, fulfilled his lust
but head in hand he sits.
Same curtain falls, cries helplessly
to be, or not to be.
In mother’s arms, he starts to see
to be, to be, to just be.
the stage on which he plays.
Wide-eyed and free, begins to dream;
the crowds will come some day.
For want of part, he acts to fit,
a vapid Hamlet roams.
Green actors’ thirst, grows truculent
dull pang for greatness moans.
Transcending now, his show robust
gold words from Shakespeare’s kiss.
The crowds have come, fulfilled his lust
but head in hand he sits.
Same curtain falls, cries helplessly
to be, or not to be.
In mother’s arms, he starts to see
to be, to be, to just be.