The phantom of a man moves across a stage,
A shadow drawn out of ingenuity
Speaking line after line,
The story and creed of a life told behind a mask of flesh.
Tragedy and joy,
Failure and success,
The sum of a collective memory
Told to the blinded crowd in fable form,
Bringing laughter and tears to the surface of many minds
But to none the pain of retribution,
Joy of love,
Sorrow of loss,
Known so deep within the architect’s soul.
So the flocks will leave,
Talk of weather
Now sprinkled with that of a play one Sunday night past,
And the architect will stay,
Seeking a way
To tell the world of all that has been set upon him.