We do everything by the script,
how we manage our morning,
what time we show up,
when we decide to take care of this,
why do we need to live a mechanical life
Imagine if all the gears just stopped,
who would react, and who might run away.
yet, where would they go to find themselves,
perhaps in the woods, eventually they might die,
we do know yet what they have found,
because they never come to retell the story,
we just anticipate, the same way we just know
our world is going to exist as we plan in the morning,
and it will as it does at dusk when our minds expand.
I remember as a child the first I heard the words,
“All the world’s a stage’ I didn’t get it,
I knew it was pretty because that’s what my teacher
taught us about Shakespeare, lovely language.
Tonight while I again wait for that moment,
the crestfallen moon that shines upon my eye,
when I hope to figure out the reason why I want to stay awake
rather than fall into the fear of my dreams,
I wonder really what it means ‘to be or not to be’
I used to construe as death’s finality,
today, I’m wondering if I want to be like you, her, them
what identity do I choose with each morning sun rise.
* photo found on thefilmexperiment