Act

I wonder everyday
If this is the parts we play.
The sun that shines,
And the rain that blinds.

What should I do?
Everyday, my part feels new.
My lines unrehearsed,
Songs of unfamiliar verse.

One person, two people.
One soul for the steeple.
This world is so strange
A desolate, void range.

I wonder everyday
If reality is what I play.
Ask the faces in the window,
And, well, they seem to think so.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

The world is indeed a strange place. The best we can do is not to resist it, but to dwell in the present moment, which is the only thing that is real.