A cedar wood box...
#1 of The World's Stage (Poems)
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players"
-William Shakespeare
Look at the little marionette
Dancing on those silver strings
See the joy it's dance brings?
With grace it moves across center stage
It really was quite all the rage
And the wizard behind the curtain,
The grand puppeteer!
It is for him the crowds unwittingly jeer
In the end this much is certain
He smiles and opens the champagnes cork
Praising the little doll for his endless work
The gold fills the masters every coffer
But the marionette never receive a single copper
Time flys and the crowd begins to dwindle
And the master plays less and less with its spindle
No more does the marionette's movements entrance
No more does the marionette dance
Now it lies alone in a cedar wood box
Cast aside with the rubble, the dirt, the rocks
It hasn't the strength to get up or walk
It hasn't the moth to cry or talk
It's once polished face now gathers dust
Even it's silver strings begin to rust
Alone and forgotten it doth lay
Never again to see the light of day
And the years pass and my bones creak
I know I am growing ever more weak
In my youth I was much more grand
But now I haven't even the strength to stand
One day soon they will lay me in a cedar wood box
Alone with all the dirt, rubble, and rocks
Alone and forgotten I too will lay
Never again to see the light of day