The Act of Life
The curtains go up, the lights are on green,
It isn't rehearsed, it can't be foreseen.
I can not see, I can not talk,
I can't go back, I can not walk.
Where did I come from? Why am I here?
I feel cold and hungry, filled with fear.
I'm wrapped in a blanket and made to feel warm.
Cuddled in tightly, protected from harm.
There is a question I can't comprehend,
Is this the beginning? Or is this the end?
The world is untouched, everything's new,
The grass is green, the sky is blue.
As years go by, I learn and I grow,
Happiness and freedom are all that I know.
Is there a point, in every ones life,
When everything changes and fills with strife?
The world is spinning, I start to fall.
Each time I get up, I'm faced with a wall.
I don't know what happened, what did I do wrong?
The nights are now lonely, the days are so long.
There's no one to guide me down this infinate road.
No one to help me, to lighten this load.
The curtain's still up, the lights are on amber.
There are no lines for me to remember.
Days turn to night, weeks turn to years.
Laughter to sadness, smiles to tears.
But there are some days of joy and pleasure,
Times to reflect on, remember and treasure.
I've been true to myself and lived for today.
I can't re-enact it, it wasn't a play.
I've kept love in my heart, a smile on my face.
Ignored all the bitterness in this twisted place.
The time will come when it's all too late,
I won't live my life waiting for fate.
I write my own story, though it isn't a book.
When it goes wrong, I step back and look.
Start a new chapter, turn over the page.
I won't waste my time on anger and rage.
But life goes by quickly, where did the time go?
Where are all the people I used to know?
I can no longer see, I can barely talk.
I can't go back, I can no longer walk.
Where did I come from? Why am I here?
I feel cold and hungry, filled with fear.
I have no blanket to make me feel warm.
No one to cuddle, to protect me from harm.
There is a question I can't comprehend,
Is this the beginning? Or is this the end?
The curtains go down, the lights are on red.
Is the show over? Am I now dead?
© Amanda Beattie 1999
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