Stage In Solitude Poem by M.W. Ketchel

Soft lights on the barren stage
cast a dim glow upon empty seats
who wait patiently.
It’s quiet,
like a church before revival
the stage an altar of old boards,
worn but steady
waiting silently,
in anticipation.
Strange site an empty stage,
filled with dreams,
some fulfilled, while others not.
Unfair? The stage doesn’t choose.
Amazing Grace, it is said,
may be heard from time to time
when all is still,
as if spawned of many souls,
resurrected of the past,
who,
refusing to depart completely,
find special refuge here,
alone,
on the solitary stage.