Secrets from a Current Theatrical Season   

There is a world waiting for its time to happen.

It waits, attentive to the counterpoint marker,

its turn to enter the scene.

Eyes open, anonymous among the spectators,

an envoy, an emissary, and a plenipotentiary  

of the author of the play, so that each speech,

each act, mainly unkind and wicked ones,

do not become lost.

The author, at home and even more anonymous,

did not want to witness the event, surely regretful

and disconsolate of the rawness at times

he could not avoid in the unfolding of the plot.

And so different worlds overlap on the stage,  

at its due and exact time.

The author, yet aware he portrayed real life,

in his forced retreat, 

his decaffeinated coffee and non-alcoholic beer,

a cloistered five o’clock tea,  

a sad and lonely heart.

(Written on March 28th, 2025)