I am familiar with the night
Its silent stage
In darkness scenes open and fade
In a floodlight of memory
I re-enact my life
Animated by desire and illusion
The cold prompter, Fear, in the wings,
Fatal flaws illuminated
The Director, until now,
An invisible, mysterious, temperamental tyrant,
Alternately threatening and encouraging me
I have the role for life—if I choose.
Oh! I’ve convinced myself
That I modify my part from time to time
Revise my method:
A subtle gesture here
An improvisation there
The truth is I have perfected the role into ritual
But, no one notices
Except one critic and well-wisher,
Accompanied by the beat of my heart
Acknowledging and reminding me
That only I can draw the curtain
Close the play
Retire the part
Audition for new ones.
My critic says: “I’ll put you in touch with my son,
A fabulous agent, a miracle worker, I tell you.
He’ll show you how to reinvent yourself.
In fact, he specializes in Death and Rebirth.”