Author Information
Sestina
Everyday, we act as actors.
We are refugees within our own plays.
Our audience is composed of acting existence.
Souls lost within unheard soliloquies, personal vendettas.
Humanity is the director of our false-purpose productions.
Inadvertently—we come together.
As one, we conjoin our existence.
We read our scripts—we act as actors.
Our propensities are scripted; become part of production.
United; our routine, our plays
essential roles within the foundation of vendettas.
As we rehearse, reality deteriorates—we loose ourselves, together.
Actuality’s role is slim in humanity’s production.
Variation is a luxury, unattainable to characterized existence,
existence that subliminally comes together.
But for what? For the play
for acting that needs actors,
plays that need vendettas.
If no one took part, Humanity would be without actors.
Plays would be plays,
produced by real teams of production.
Our beings would be; our souls would fill with existence.
Resolution would be found for obscure vendettas,
resolution would be found not near a set; separately, but together.
Our adolescent imaginations desire more than arbitrary productions.
Undeveloped thoughts never drift towards actors.
We desired more than plays.
Naive reasoning and solutions for ignored vendettas.
As a whole we were blinded by our euphoric existence.
We were naïve to the truth—together.
If our existence
strayed from the routine production
we may find occupation far from that of an actor.
Routines would be owned, not ones choreographed for a play.
We would not utilize our vendettas,
We’d exist, willingly together.
Gradually, adolescent existence merged into that of robotic actors.
The cast was created, the production underway.
Together our vendettas conjoined—to play.
