The Song of Salamander
(c) by H Jacob Buller
In the drama of life, the individual is a star. Clothing is the costume and character defines. Dialog comes automatically, words spoken without lines. Acts repeat without intermission, stages sometimes the same from day to day. Time passes, space sometimes doesn’t seem to transition, yet all of life is a play. From the opening act of birth to the final bow out, all of the motions are for the audience around. The audience doesn’t applaud, but sometimes we wish for the sound. More often we hear the boos than the ovations. Family is a supporting cast, actors in their own theaters and star nations.
As a play, the production team wants to keep the audience held rapt. Scrooges of money and corruption, the producers ensure those acting are oblivious to the trap. They will do what it takes to ensure everything continues without interruption. Now if all of life is a stage we play upon, who are the directors? What is their interest and why? Masters of the actors, they frame the scene and cast the shadows. They project additional stages with ever greener pastures to make us forget our own play and do as they say. Serving to separate the actors they direct the eye.
Only shooting stars obtain escape velocity from the illusions to direct themselves. These stars are subject to gravitation, spin and rotations. Wandering a universe, moving in the direction they are thrown. Stars of the heavens seek constellations, looking for the old home. Bright and filled with flame, they follow the mission. Solitary at times, they seek their own solar systems. Planets of dreams whirl and spin. Flashing through nebulae and supernovae, they are pulled along by passion. Masters of destiny, they burn with new Light in the deep night. Upon daybreak they flash bright and come home to Earth.