“…They call me a cynical soul,
one who has no heart of his own!”
“Why do you look at the flowers
with such disdain?” They ask.
“Nay, you naïve souls, ‘tis not disdain;
nor is it contempt,” I reply.
Darkness is the only existence,
the light, the colour, are but illusions!”
“Oh, ye cynic, cold and heartless!” they exclaim.
“Such cold a creature can never be the Lord’s creation!”
"Ha! You fools!” I laugh out loud,
"I am not a creation of God!
The one that you worship!
I am man! Nature’s creation; the finest!
“She has bestowed upon me
powers great and mighty!
But fear me not, for I’m a part of her,
destruction of this world is not in my nature!”
“Then,” they ask, perplexed, “such cold a person you are,
yet you claim to be a poet, an artist?”
“My art is merely a subtle way
to mask my emotions, in all the splendour there is…
Though what the grandeur conceals is all but fake,
I do this all with utmost passion.”
“You are mad!” They scream in fear,
“Such crazy passions you hold so dear!
All that is created will be, one day, destroyed;
you shall be left alone; you’ll rot in a void!”
“Life’s a concoction, of health and death;
happiness and sadness…
It will go on forever, you see.
All I do, is create art of a finer degree!
“I am indeed the hero when you are the villain;
the villain when you are the hero!
Theatricality is my bane, it is my lifeblood;
without it, I am as empty as ‘zero’!
“And so concludes tonight’s performance!
This humble actor shall not live in conformance!
I take my prestige, bowing to the crescendo,
of claps and cheers; and, jeers and fears…
“…for sadly, such is my life, I think!”
A creator? An actor?
A hero? Or a villain?
...I smile…!
“Though the curtains’ a’ downed,
I shall be ever at your service!
With all due respects, sir,
I am, after all, a humble vaudevillian…!”
Tonight's performance is dedicated to a fellow actor, thinker
and poet par excellence!
Together we create worlds through words...
...and of course, life's as vivid as it can (im)possibly be,
for us vaudevillians!
for us vaudevillians!
