An Audience

Tapping, swishing, sighing
The theatre welcomes attention
It is ready, or only just
The floor polished and tested
Limbs stretched, warm and smooth

It is ready, grinning teeth say
All the world’s a stage
But the stage is merely a world
Its own universe, centred around itself

The unspoken ideas, thoughts buried
Which shy from the light of day
Appear here, in the dark of curtains
Revealing the true possibility of life, love
Everything

Nothing is known, which is not explored
Must be experienced apart from the thinker
And made to know itself on stage
Through story, or movement, or silence

Sheltered in the chairs, far away
The thinker remains attached, vulnerable
The thoughts are not new, containing eons
But still may be rejected

All the world’s a stage, yet
The stage is not uncommon with the world
Those selfish parts of it, reaching out
Bleeding into a realm of disbelief