Black arced across the black - moving like a draping curtain deciding it wants the show tho go on. The stage clustered with the shadows of shadows and resonating to echoes and hidden, muffled sounds. And in one fell swoop, the curtain closed and opened again. Time demanded another show be played, but the stage remained thick with shadows spawned from oozing light. The audience desperate to make out the show, astounded that such a piece could exist. Was it stage fright? Did the actors, actresses, and props all come under plague by the same ravaging disease to the point where they were just too sick to continue the show?
Desperation motivating the curtain winch.
Foiled by yet a another cinch. Act I long past - Act II just closed.
And so Act III, lucky number three, continues the show.
Muffled sounds now become clearer. Actors Alas! Nay, more shadows passing to and fro to monitor the non-happenings ever so. So the curtain drapes once more, setting the way for Act number four. Perhaps a lesson is here to be learned? Acts I-IV went by ever so fast. How was the audience to have the lesson last?
Slowly now, the intermission roles. The audience blinded by white lights - relieved at last, looks to itself to reflect the play of flawed holes.
As quickly as a pin drops, so the lights speak, “The play you’re enjoying has yet another peak.”
A spider bites the hand of an audience member in the dark. Never to be known till two acts past when the brain receives its jolting spark.
And so the play continues unforgiving of the cripple now in stark.
As a new day turns in the chapters of this unforgiving play
so the hours read aloud leave no respite for those in its way.
A happy play the writer mocks!
Nay, this one shall say.
Spite and angst and pain shall be the paper, ink and hand that write the lay.
But shall the audience ever see, so the play will finally take speed.
To laugh is to live and to live is to feel writhed.
When the audience sees, just before final happiness is awarded.
The actor must make one final pit fell -
that shall he fail so the lesson must be retaught.
But in spite of all that is wrought, a victory shall give love to be the hand that holds the pen taught.
