Cage On Stage

Shakespeare called for seven stages

I believe there are only two,

One where you stay fully consciousOther where you have caged you.

"Life is a stage", he next remarked

You heard it with your ears open, eye blind,

Picked up your props, put on your many a masks to deliver a performance that shall, you reckon, set you apart.

Countless pairs of the eye, you feel every moment follow you,

Not a single one blinks even for a split second when you could attend to the real, caged you!

You cater to the audience

Assume the right glamour and poses

You clamor for applause,

Waiting for them to throw roses.

Is it worthy? All these efforts to please those around you?

Of course, everyone is watching,

What else do they have to do?

Still, you cower beneath the spotlight of a million pairs of imaginary eyes boring straight into you.

You clutch your fingers, still behind the bars,

Sweating in anticipation, waiting for the judgment hour.

Really?

How could someone tell what's red to them for the same could be green to you?

They'll tell you everything is just as it should be and you'll never know if it is at all true.

They throw coins at you, you think it's appreciationFailing to realize yet again,

You are the center to everything, the master of all creation and all you see and fear and doIs but your imagination.

Feeling caged yet?

The key lies within your reach, carefully behold,

Free yourself from the cage before you're left with nothing but a heart and pocket full of clinking coins, both cold!