The theatre
On the stage
A character steals a look at himself
In silent fury
The commotion
Ends up coming to the surface
As the prelude opens itself
Light and dark
The stage
The double-face of a mask
Rows of audience
The stage in meditation
Where the director's soul is drifting in the air
The sword that slips out of the hand
The commotion from centuries ago
And time, locked on the stage
Someone is turning an egg around
As life and art are in rivalry
When the light goes out, what remains is a solitary stage
Where the actors swap roles
Wind and leaves
While souls are seeking where to return themselves
Those, candle in hand, are forming endless roads
When the stage suddenly wakes up
And the raindrops that fall into the pond are wordless and traceless
Sound of the footsteps behind the stage
And noise of the audience wearing the masks
The traces of words on paper are burning
Wind extinguished, soundless
In memory, the audience are dancing on the stage
While ti and me are secretly merging into one
An actor is holding a skull in his hand
Life has nothing to say
Someone is waiting to disembark from a bus
The stage is holding its breath
The rose pricking a finger
The statue changing its angles following the footprints of the sun
Stone and reality
The stage without a door
The dreamer with a single key
The city agitating under a storm
The traffic on the road slipping past, dividing the rain
Someone is holding an umbrella on the stage
Where the cage and the bird
And the playwright is thinking of the last scene in the play
While the passengers are gathering on the platform to dodge the rain
The lamps of power on the streets are on and off
There are footprints that go into the cave but none out of it
The stage is in meditation in the darkness
The director is facing a group of actors
Butterfly specimens inside the frames
Stillness and movement
A cloud rises on the horizon of heart
Theatre and garden
Where one can feel the smell of a storm
A helicopter is flying over the dome
Its fleeting shadow like that of a predator
Victims and butchers bowing in pairs
A double-fate
The actors die on the stage
But live in the hearts of the audience
Centuries are colliding
The majestic gods are expressionless
Amidst the rising applause, the cries of the kids
Prisoners squatting in a circle
Shadows
And after the performance, the director is signing autographs for his audience
Piercingly cold
The only blurry blackness in the white fog
The audience have all left the theatre
The sound of drums rises from behind the wall
The fury of the director is encircled by the actors
The