The performance of someone who seems to be me
Is audaciously tricky that it would attempt
To tempt me with the promise of full possession
Of what I have already, yet it has but none
Of the pure essence of me. The ego unkempt
On a world of stage acting has such need to be.
Its craving for acceptance renders it unseen.
If it lets down its armor this may not be true.
Ancient is the fine art that the ego knows well.
Its sole purpose for existing is to compel
Itself and perceived others to perform on cue.
If they don’t then the actor can be rather mean.
What it manifests matters but not a whole lot.
It may take reaching great heights to then realize
That it finds no contentment. So does it matter
That all hopes, dreams, and wishes surely must occur?
Both viewers and projectors are what are the eyes
Running a second story with another plot.
The Great Powerful Wizard Of Oz needs a rest,
As its body and mind grow weary of the act
That it thinks it must maintain to make a big name
Of itself on some world stage. It is not the same
As the one who is nameless. Staying in contact
With that one ensures me that my acting is blessed.
