Whispers Of Stratford... Poem by P.A. NOUSHAD

Iago, Othello, Lear, Macbeth, Hamlet…
Their restless shadows linger still,
woven from your quill's eternal breath,
whispering through the corridors of time.

Here, beneath these sacred stones,
you slumber in the Holy Trinity,
yet your spirit rises like dawn's mist,
unfading, unbroken—whispering eternity.

I stand before you, Bard of Avon,
a pilgrim at the altar of words,
where childhood dreams and scholar's musings
merge into the hush of hallowed ground.

Though your eyes are closed in time's embrace,
your voice stirs the breath of the wind,
guiding me beyond the veil of dust,
where souls are weighed in whispered truths.

With your wisdom, I ascend,
soaring past the poisoned air
of greed, betrayal, and fractured trust—
warning my son, as you warned the world,
of daggers cloaked in velvet hands.

Yet in your verses, I find refuge,
a lantern in the tempest's eye,
where love flows unchained, untainted,
lifting me beyond the narrow walls of fate.

Dear Shakespeare, though time may slumber,
your whispers awaken hearts anew,
and here at your grave, I am not alone—
for you live, immortal, within me.