WHEN I TURN MY EYES UNTO MY VERY SOUL

RonPrice

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.
-Shakespeare, Macbeth, V,v,24-26.

When I turn my eyes unto my very soul
I find such dark, ingrained, boiling
blackness whispering and side-by-side
some mighty, powerful pearls of mystery
and fragrances of white beauty contesting,
as they do day after day creeping on
until my life does end like some mirage,
some semblance introducing, so I’m told,
a messenger of joy, who takes the grief,
the dusty days of death, and lights a candle,
light, light...up, up...there, there...and this
walking shadow is no more, but has been
transferred to some undiscovered country,
some new stage, beyond this dark and narrow
theatre, some land of lights, new tales,
new sounds and furies and significances.

Ron Price
5 October 1995