john coldwell (18th June 1948 / Sheffield UK)
The Common Man
You are not another common man,
A mere name upon a roll,
No, you are a universe,
An eternally expanding soul.
And thereon the master dramatist,
Writes your part in His great play,
Which is the sum of each of us,
To perform. Awake onto your day!
The womb‘s thick curtains open,
You are thrust upon the stage,
Unrehearsed, and unprepared,
Your script, an empty page,
Act one begins, now draw first breath,
And fear not what to say,
Your words shall write your history,
And the part you alone shall play.
Each life a drama, rich and deep,
Uniquely forged by fate.
Their twisting plots and tragic end,
Awash with loves and hate.
No thespian's art shall ever grasp,
Your bosom's grand array.
Those overtures of passion,
They are the part that you must play.
What will it be O Dramatist,
Of romance, tragedy and art?
And you there, watching scornfully,
Some actor's faltering part,
On you too the spotlight falls,
As you live out every day,
Judge not then another's final act,
Since you know not the whole play.
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