The stillness brim with beauty; so
Our hearts will whisper, throbbing fast:
'Must time undeviating flow
And bear this fragile moment past?'
Maître de Ballet
On a gossamer thread
Of light that stretches
From dark to dark
Over the void
We giddily jig
To the mad music
The Master makes.
From the Green Room
He calls us forth,
Sensitive puppets,
Live automata,
And with a gesture
Sets us jerkily
Dancing the tightrope.
From a seat in the stalls
Of the cosmic theatre
Silently
He watches our antics.
When we call to him
'Master, Master!
Help, we are falling!'
Out of the darkness
Comes no word
....Only a chuckle.
The Grudge
We grudged not those that were dearer than all we possessed,
Lovers, brothers, sons.
Our hearts were full, and out of a full heart
We gave our beloved ones.(Laurence Binyon)