Beams of Light

 Beams of Light

The world emerges,

dances and plays,

trips and falls, 

suffers and dies,

jumps  up again,

shakes itself off

then bows 

in mock seriousness

before scampering off the stage

to get ready for the next act.

And we watch

behind this heavy dark curtain, 

each a pin prick of light,

a tiny beam shining onto the stage,

allowing  the actors

in there ever changing scenery

 to be seen.

So intent are we  

to  follow the  drama,

to be  entertained, 

pleasured and pleased

numbed and distracted, 

that we cling to the velvety fabric, 

hold our breaths and watch,

allowing ourselves to get lost 

in the play unfolding

before us.

We cry when the hero falls,

we cheer when she gets up.

We shoo away the villian

and scream in warning

when the lights go down

and the orchestra's tempo rises.

We feel the  fabric,

against our flesh

as we look out 

through the tiny eyehole

we call our own...

at what we believe to be real.

We are self-consciously aware 

but try to ignore

 the other

 pinpricks of light 

that shine out 

from seperate seats .

We do not want to feel 

the proximity of  hands

clinging, like our own,

to the curtain we share.

We just focus on

what our own little light

allows us to see

with our unique intrepretations

as if 

this was all there was. 

There may be  many seperate 

holes in the fabric

but 

there is just one 

brilliant glowing 

light  that emerges 

through all these openings

and we 

are simply one opening

through which this light shines. 

If we were to release 

the hold our tight fists

have on this curtain,

step back and away

from its many folds,

we would see...

we are all small beams 

from One Great Light.

What is being played out on stage 

is not important...

this Light is. 

© Dale-Lyn April 2021

Inspired by :

Alan Watts/True Inspiration (December, 2017) The Web of Life (Interependence of All Things) by Alan Watts https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPaSiVc75w8

And of course from Jacques, Act II Scene VII As You Like It ...William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage/ And all men and women merely players...