Shakespeare

O what a task. What a task.

Mankind and his mask,

meticulous as a tarantula

paper mached -

a heart’s hymnal; a soul’s sutra –

Donning the nimble acrobat within us all,

Our stilts ten feet tall

whilst we dance along the stage

of Life’s magical Circue du Solei

t’themes and brief yage dreams

of alegria, grief ‘n’ rage,

Only t’shed it all at the end,

The same, lame skin

of that tarantula.