There’s always that stage in life
when and where life, itself, is a stage.
Darling, do we live life on a stage?
Do we parade around the masquerades?
Do we perform as if we are there to show
The world of us, our “selves”, and all that we know?
Or do we live as if life is a stage?
In between heaven and hell, love and hate?
Existence is merely a few seconds in history
A few shreds of leaves written down in a biography.
What is our purpose, my dear,
Why are we here?
Is it of importance, or is time an illusion?
Are we happy, are we sure?
Well here’s some challenge to endure.
Are we miserable, or are we just bored?
Well here’s some advice, we’re all equally flawed.
We’re the same on the inside
Wearing different masks
Different human skeletons
Completing different tasks
The only walls between us
Would be the human ego
So how long can one ride along with this mainstream flow?
You want to blend in
But you were made to shine
You want to stand out
Yet you refuse to give it time
To put in the work
To plant the seeds
To grow the trees you breed
So take it slow, my dear
Life is but a stage
A stage on which you could choose to stand
Or a stage
You could simply