The Gods of Theatre

By
The Gods of Theatre

The entwined masks.
Complete opposites.
Contradictory,
Like everything in life.

Black and white symbolism
Staring back at me from the poster.
It’s just ink on paper,
A decoration in the lobby,
But to me they’re personal,
Harsh judges but friends.

Comedy,
Bouncing around backstage.
Silly pantomimes in the green room.
It’s in the laughter issuing from the eaves of the old theatre.

Tragedy,
Sulking in the hidden doorway.
A broken set piece the day before a show.
It’s in the faces of the cast when a fellow player graduates.

Our performance is an ode to them.
Opening night is dedicated to them.
The audiences think we are here for the people of the community,
But they look at us, not at the poster in the back.

We forget a line, miss a cue,
And not only have we let down the director, the audience, and ourselves,
We’ve let down the masks,
The Gods of Theatre.

Comedy and Tragedy are there for US.
They allow us to put them on temporarily,
Draw inspiration from them,
Use them to make our characters more interesting
When our real lives lack flavor.

We are mere players,
Charading, parading,
Across the stage of life.
Wearing the masks and playing the character
For an evanescent moment
Than ends as the curtain closes.





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