All The World's A Stage

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Her enigmatic smile robbed me of my sorrows, filling me with a desire so powerful that I failed to comprehend. It was a desire to smile, to be happy and enjoy what life had to offer. It was a desire to be thankful for what I had got, and patiently wait for what I hadn't. It was a desire to wish, a desire to dream, a desire to love.

Her dignity mystified me, while her beauty left me bewildered. Was she a nymph from the underworld, dressed in its finest attire and adopting a manner so delicate that it can lure the innocent men into the path of destruction? Or was she a messenger of God, an angel of peace and serenity, drowning itself in my eyes and taking over my heart? But no, she was a mere mortal, a just human, with all the morbid characteristics of the mortal self, and yet managing to rise above the savagery and drudgery of the earthly hardships to shine like a Princess of the Icy Peaks.

She was an illusion, not a vision, but a dream that I saw only in flashes. It was tough to relate her to the sour realities of life; she was just a cruel figment of my imagination.

In an instance she was gone.

I looked here and there, craned my neck sideways. Even a minute glimpse of her would be satisfying. My eyes pierced the corners of the vast auditorium, searching for the silken robe, the smile that lit the fire, the eyes that had passion flowing out of them. Her voice still rang in my ears, but the figure was no more there. I tried to draw her out from the strength of my memory, but it seemed vague, the picture that I managed to re-construct was full of misty ideas, cluttering the vacancies in my heart, diluting the love that was dying to find a way out.

Silence. And then there was a loud roar. A roar of applause. The audiences rose from their seat, preparing to leave. The elderly couple beside me moved out happily, chatting away the beauty of the play that they seemed to have enjoyed. A few minutes passed, and I was the only one left behind. The lights above grew dimmer, the shadows disappeared, and I started towards the exit gate.

I reached the exit, and looked back instinctively towards the stage where the play was enacted, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. I saw nothing. The lights were turned off by now, but I felt her soft touch leading me towards the brightness of the day, away from the monotonicity and darkness of the night.

All the world's a stage, with the two of us now dancing to its music, commencing along the acts, exhibiting passionate power play.


This Piece is written for Carry On Tuesday and the Prompt is All the world's a stage.