The Script

Our book of life falls open at a page
whereupon we write our stories daily,
with tracery that weaves our souls’ intent
into the fabric of the words we choose;
ours the choice to seek the light, or dark inks,
used to embellish the script of our play.

We have to take the leading role. Each act
supplies a cast of characters for us,
without whom our production would be dull,
a monologue in shades of monotone
uniformity.  So raise the curtain,
let the orchestra play the overture,
as we stand in the wings of a stage, set
with painted backdrops poised to shape our lives.

This is one of my poems re-worked, linked today to d'Verse