The murmurs ebb; I step onstage in wonder,
I am trying, framed against the door,
To discover in the echo's distant thunder,
What the coming years may hold in store.
Opera glasses, jostling one another,
Blankly gaze upon me from on-high,
If only it is possible, O Father,
Let this cup of poison pass me by!
I've admired your intractable design,
And to play my part I've been content.
But the coming drama is not mine,
And, just this once, God, let me be exempt.
But the order of the acts is set in stone,
And the end irrevocably sealed.
Inanity surrounds me -- I'm alone,
And life is not a stroll across a field.















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