"The Theatre of Life" by Michael James Fry

                                                                                                                               

The Theatre of Life

 

 

Michael James Fry

 

 

ACT ONE

 

 

 

I - Introduction

 

The hidden ceremony begins in the pre-dawn stillness

which, with the natural ebb and flow of moving time,
waits to host the intricately balanced  anticipations that spill many quickly-moving early morning twilight fluorescences
into a lovely choreography of dancing impulses;
Aye! Souls whose cries are gratefully lost and deeply tossed
through the enlightened throes of the timelessly sublime ~

~ Unbending Awakening!

Watch now and take in the rise of the new dawn unfolding

that ye might grow to become strong and tough enough
to ruthlessly garnish the value of how to stalk and govern
the rough basis of harshly real places in Truth, uncovered.

~ And fie upon scorn!

May ye also learn to discover, even now, how to dress,

how to size up and recover the advantages of knowledge
as recouped in a reborn will boasting courage and prowess;
Yes! And a faith strong and kind enough
to aggressively leave thy roasting piles of lies
behind upon The Dead Man’s Bridge
 ~ and survive.
 

Neither jump nor hang, for no one hears the bang

of any gun nor knows how the knife of life

is used on the path to nowhere, yea, far away

on the broken boards of The Dead Man's Bridge.

  

  

 

 

II - Plea

 

If that is so, then shall we walk together in pursuit of  . . . what?

Knowledge? ~ Ha!
 

For at what price doth honest truth unfold most fairly?

And tell me, host, how much death must I die daily?
For the Holy Ghost hath death in a fate with a date
set to slay me!

Therefore, let roustabout Faust make his cry unto thee;

for surely the strife of everyday life opens the doors
and marks the scores of his blatant uncertainty –
yea though, through his story to mine, accordingly,
and on the whole by my design, insubordinately.

  

 

 

III - Welcome

 

Oh, Everyman, Superman ~ Stop thy greedy stalling!

When will ye answer thy much-needed Calling?
Is there room in your gloomy eyes for compromise?
For aye! With what plan to where shall ye go?
When shall I know what next shall ye do?

  ~ Surely not die?

But must ye have proof to embrace the Truth, too?
What commotions of emotions hath ye left at sunrise
to balance the oceans of rooms left to go through?
Indeed, is there nothing more new with thee
or hath ye no clue?
 

“Sin no more!” sing thy guardian angels:

 “Obsessively dare to reverse the score;

and without failing, stop falling like before.

Befriend for thyself a new tendency to sail

in the infinite blends of everlasting eternity,

and then no longer shall ye be

 a causality of worldly iniquity.

Begin now to aggressively grow righteously

that ye might invariably show how to plow

the Tao of The Holy Karmic Now into all that is right,

and, how to stay prepared to Fight the Good Fight.

Then faithfully rise enough to be free,

 rise enough to see with me deep into the night,

and farther into an extended fate;

and mightily take flight with a new Second Sight

that has been ignited brightly with this new Holy Trait.

And now, Welcome to the Show! Renew thyself slowly

and grow to glow with a brand new song to sing

~ and do this thing now, before it’s too late!”

  

 

IV - Petition

 

Aye, friend, as of now ye hath therefore been

duly forewarned; and as such, it is strongly advised
that ye now rise and mend thy mind; that ye rule
to fool thyself no more, that ye move away from sin
and find a way somehow to school
a release from depression,
and to obsessively make peace with the Spirit of Wisdom –
for thou art to knowingly revise and cast thy Path away
from the wrath and pain in the sins of the world today,
and to work well the worth of you
within to through and through
so that you, too, can know
what Truth means to you,
in the end.

Yea though, it is surely through the very aching heartbeat

of The Holy Universal Truth that we must meet up against
the hard-edged play of the present moment.

And it must purely be in the way that we greet the threat
of the sharpened tooth of despair that we spare
the last the lustful powers of the past;
that upon the arrival of that fateful hour
we might strive to survive and last long enough
to powerfully stare into the hard-edged play
of the present moment.
 

But look ye even now!

Securely, and not prematurely,

the hard-edged play of the present moment
is fast upon us! Attend thee now to greet how Karma
can unfold atonement in the passionate and raging
throes of life as shown in this sultry and engaging drama!
 

Take ye now all that surrounds thee

that ye might move and lift with life all around
and far away from The Dead Man’s Bridge; begone
and move yonder into higher levels of light and love,
prove life with faith, and take ye now this new ground
to stand upon as a sound and free gift from God above.

 

ACT TWO

V – History, Part I

 

In days gone by, (though after the Innocence,)

there had been a time when all was chaos and decay.
All was defense with year after year of tearful suspense;
all places were filled with a senseless confusion,
and tracing disillusionment was the fractured focus
in that drab and shadowy day of darkened diffusion.

Then later in the moving wake
of the early morning mindset flow,
(which had been arranged for ahead of time,
before the play), with no delay then came
The New Way by way of regular display;
and this without betrayal or allowing the showing
of a dime store portrayal that can sorely change
above and below with a very simple turn
of that very simple dime, hiding in the fright
of the night or burning in the light of the day.

For then, my dear, dear friend,

with a mere bend in the wind

all other movements can sway thee far, far away,
weeping into the creeping woes
and deep through the sleeping throes
which move and intervene at the heart
of the scene of the crime.
 

What crime might that be, you ask?

What time unfolds that frightful task?
 

Wouldn’t the world like to know! True!

And wouldn’t you like me to show you, too?

 

Is there really any other more important thing to do?

Aye, no! And so then, “On With The Show!”

 

The beginning of this moody mourning occurs

with the standard early morning habits and rituals:
the murky kiss of memories, the music and mental musings,
the readings of the text, the prayers, poetry and feedings
upon the musings thereupon, which, when fairly suspended,
tend to blend each never-ending moment
into the dreaded next.

For indeed, one greets whatever one wilt
to make ends meet, to make the time go by
until it becomes time to get ready, time to fly as taught,
for the time to be ever-steady in thought is now;
and I prithee, know the rising need is so very high –
it can never be bought nor sold, lest ye die.

For I have seen

how slowly the hour hand

can move as proven

in times of troubled brokenheartedness a’ brewing;

though I had never planned to feel
the smoking heat a’ spewing,
shewing me defeat, causing me to retreat
with stumbling awkwardness accruing.

While some call that a game,

others stall and seek to blame;

but regardless of all their theories I am quite weary
of all the dreariness and strife found abounding
in the power of this hour in my life
as it came upon me,
this shame.

 

 ~ Fie upon sour sounds sent all around to abound

in the Theatre of Life so powerfully!

 

But know ye now it is not only me who suffers as such:

“Oppression of Depression” is the name of the game -
and encircling the circle is how it’s played.
Not by rejoicing, and not by choice, no, not by much.
Just say no to simple-minded fame,
for once you’ve played the game it’s not the same:
easy to think you've got it made,
easy to wish you’d never stayed.

 

The angst of the world fears peace

through honest understanding . . .

 . . . since that requires exposure

in the face of an impressive light,

the blessed sight of enlightened comprehending

set directly against the hard-edged play

of the present moment.

 

How unnecessary is fear!

Shall thy dignity die with thee?

How near keep ye thy insecurities?

Think ye hath no responsibilities?

Ha! Doth ye not crave to be free?

Art thou now not truly afraid of me?

Integrity is a token lost when tossed aside

in misunderstanding should ye waste away

too many days by miscomprehending.

And just as has been spoken of

in darkened places of insubordinate authority,

the place where impractical practices

are placed into action are an expanded faction
of actual disgrace.

However:

"Strength in awareness
is a food for the mind, body and soul
which brings power into the hands
of those who harbor it."

This hath been made known unto me

for I’ve adapted to watching all this bleed

and roll around from my backstage sightlines
and therefore easily know what is happening
from the lights and sounds and needs onstage,
and also from what I see and read in the headlines.

I watch as the engaging audiences rage

in what they see and in what they feel -
but don’t deal me my death in a world of unreal sages
where freedom is stale and locked in cages.

Do not fail me in a world where Truth does not prevail

as it should, or as it could as a matter of fact -
(Indeed, would it be just that for you and for me.)

Interlude: A Soliloquy

 

Watch how the curtain goes up with each passing energy!

The pressing synergy of then, now, and all that is yet to be!

Oh, the wonder of where my mind will take me next!

March to the drum of the harrowed hexed!

So perplexed I am each time I remember again

that I’ve forgotten where I came from, dear, dear friend!

My pulse quickens! My senses thicken against

any new false perceptions that scramble in the mind ~

Oh, give me a clue – why do I ramble on so much today,

why am I so behind?

 

O where do we go from here?

Where do we look for hope?

Who can we trust to weaken the lust

which, to no surprise,

is set in the eyes of the masks unclear?

 

 

 

 

ACT THREE

 

V – History, Part II

 

The sum toll upon the darkened soul of Holy mistrust

can be staggering, leaving one swaggering
in a slew of spiritual slime and disgust.

But in tracing who I am from one scene to the next,

by purely placing a clean faith to lean against
subtextual contrasts meant to mend the mind,
even when befriending hope to be caught
(with clean emotions taut)
some roads only go so far, agreed?
And after that ~ repetition becomes madness,
and preparations accelerate sadness . . .
 

The strongest power in the darkest hour

of propriety is one born out of sobriety in mind.
Can’t ye see not to miss the cue inside of thee
since ye know the show is not always kind?
The script is the same (but let’s not be lame) -
it showers its meanings to a different hue
each night, through each light on the set.
Don’t let yourself be set in the game,
lost alive in the fame, or tossed aside in the shame
of this mysterious thing we call "life."

But soft!

The Light of the New Dawn approaches!

Cues change, movements rearrange

and things begin to look so differently!

Behold a mesh of confusion set separately!

Inside the meddling madness of my settling mind

is left the behind the fright-filled sights of the sullen night;

and now that I’m steady I find myself ready

to turn! Ready to right the plight of Act Three,

 ready to Fight The Good Fight for thee!

  

 

VI - Philosophy

 

“But it was all a set up,” is what some will tell you,
they will sell that to you, make that a hell for you.
Balances bounce and shout and shake

making colors fly about as I question what’s fake ~

 

What, O what will it take

for a clear suggestion make

the breaking and splattering about

of the worst of the worldly clout

to hearken a lesser blow

 against our flow towards harmony?

 

"History repeats itself,” is something else that they will say,

and they are right about that, they are right about that ~

 

Because . . .

 

There is always a higher road to take, retiring

the balance of a soul paid into the desired healing,
the gamble then gone replaced with the dealing
of all that faith gives without stealing.

Yeah, though, steal ye time from thyself, then?

To be sure - a dastardly crime unto thyself, a sin!
Waste no more of thy precious calendar with scores
of unnecessary necessities and evil tasting,
of immoral opportunities which are clearly displacing!

 

 

VII - Response

 

The strength of this moment depends upon me,

the length of this moment is setting me free,
“The Dead Man’s Bridge,” is no longer in me.

  

 

 

~ Michael James Fry

   New York City

   April, 2013