Shakespeare in the hands of a new generation

the old generation moves on.

their hopeless billows
& dank blank clouds
release to
procreative blue

Shakespeare lives!

Saints be praised!

Shakespeare breathes

a master race of new actors
has entered into play
with the bodies of young gods.
they have captured the stage
& rocked the house of stratford
with rhythmic hands
& impatient feet
singing the music of the spheres
with the inventive voices
of hip angels

actors are the verisimilitude
of the human heart––
naked archetypes come down
from the constellated realm of stars

actors trust their souls
to Shakespeare their master––
don names & robes
to ride the bucking Pegasus
of words to heaven
& to hell

actors wield the lightning
by which we might see––
& sound the thunder
by which our souls might

Will Shakespeare once
walked on the Thames
to charm the people
of London

“let there be man”
& Lear & Falstaff & Hamlet &
Pericles joined hands

“let there be woman”
& Marina & Cordelia & Cleopatra &
Miranda began to dance

“let there be mind”
& catharsis was

we humans are made, perhaps,
out of the stuff of ancient stars––
& are heirs, maybe,
of a determined race of amoeba

but our lives are surely made
of stories

we need laughter, tears & transformation

we need truth & beauty &
glimpses of who we are
& whom we might become.

Shakespeare blesses us
with dreams of stories
& stories of dreams

a new generation has seized
the hope of Shakespeare’s art
with skillful & determined hands––

let there be light
& rightly made