Without a stage.
in spareness he phrased grand soliloquies,
upon hollowed stone words echoed penance.
In the shallow intermission
he recalled his first transgression,
"I am the grand Thespian
these cattle thus listen
to my every depiction
believing all lines of my fiction,
I need not props, cast, or Theatre
for of these things I am the greater."
Rising from this nostalgic fade
cursing his present lesser shade,
to the faults and shadows at hand
a phantom audience, his to command.
The curtain raised an internal veil of insanity,
Giving birth to the Act of Humanity.
In spareness he phrased grand soliloquies
of which only he could make sense.
"across the unfair divide
where black will never meet white
so read my token lips
as though they never exist"