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There’s someone laughing, always laughing at our struggles, and our mirth.

A great joke it must seem to all not involved here on Earth

Because it is all for what?

Hahaha, an actor’s fatal plot

Wherein lies the point of this charade?

This trifle, this latest escapade?

Hahaha, hohoho,

whence leads this tale of woe?

‘Tis a noble jest, a play, a comedy in front of us.

Here is where life unfolds, a story of our substance

Unseen by the players, yet directed so well,

here is a play with a story to tell

Desperation, love, hate and rage.

We’re the very best of actors, on this eternal stage

We’re so full of our roles we see not the crowd,

we see only that, which makes us so proud

We need not a director, we know not even the play.

We’re perfectly organised, yet it seems disarray

We know our roles so well, we even wrote the script.

And yet the play as a whole we perfectly ad lib.

It’s a comedy for some, but a tragedy for another.

It’s all a part of the greatest play we will cover.

While one cries, another of us laughs.

We do both without knowing, as a part of our crafts

The roles can change in the blink of an eye,

while we obsess, and over spilt milk we cry.

We speak of the trivial, while the universe talks.

Something that the audience find both spectacular and course.

And yet all this we cannot see,

we’re shown the props, but not the screen.

We know not the ending, though we’ll act it out,

our scripts are sure, unrehearsed, yet without doubt

It’s a play on many stages, an epic yet untold.

The unfolding of humanity is to be seen in how it folds.

Honour, pride, love and hate.

A lively stew on a desperate plate.

Each ingredient striving for it’s goal,

not seeing the beauty of the dish as a whole.

And yet it is the passion that gives it such great fame,

burning ever brightly in a multitude of frames.

A moving painting, a song so sweet,

all the while laughing, yet we always weep.

We are each a sculpture that moves in it’s own time.

We all have dreams, which at times we can but mime.

Whatever is our carrot, wherever we would go,

the driver must always laugh at our eternal soul.

But when the play is over and our part is done,

when our act is finished and our time has come,

to enter the audience and see ourselves when,

we were actors on stage, what will we think then.

Whether you’re happy with your part,

or bitter in your heart,

Your greatest critic of all,

is yourself, it’s your call.

Was I a box office legend, doing the best I could do,

or was I a failure, ask yourself, tell the truth

Did I lead a full life, understand what I must,

or fill it with decadence, hate and mistrust?

The play it goes on, with actors great and small,

we each get to choose our roles, and choose to rise or fall

The question lies with you now, what will you do with yours?

Be strong enough to do it right and be proud of your cause