Our book of life falls open at a page
whereupon we write our stories daily,
with tracery that weaves our souls’ intent
into the fabric of the words we choose;
ours the choice to seek the light or dark
inks to embellish the script of our play.
We have to take the leading role. Each act
supplies a cast of characters for us,
without whom our production would be dull,
a monologue in shades of monotone
uniformity. So raise the curtain,
let the orchestra play an overture
as we stand in the wings of a stage set
with backdrops poised to paint the scene for life.
Inspiration came today from Imaginary Garden's guided meditation, and I've linked it to Poetry Pantry , too.
Life isn't a rehearsal is it. Our one chance to shine is here and now.
ReplyDeleteCJ xx
This is so true... the mystery and terrible uncertainty of this life.
ReplyDeleteI love these lines,
ReplyDelete"So raise the curtain,
let the orchestra play the overture
as we stand in the wings of a stage set
with backdrops poised to paint the scene for life"
The stage is different for all of us; I enjoyed your poem~
So true, but sometimes we don't want to take the leading role...
ReplyDeleteI love how you have presented this.
ReplyDelete~laurie kolp
Love the ending .... poised to paint the scene for life ... a continuous adventure:)
ReplyDelete