Theatre of Life

In life, we're all supposed to be the stars of our own story, but how many people truly treat their lives with that significance?

These days of our lives, 

sweet do they taste, 

but quick to the past they fade. 

When in our lives, 

are we stars in the cast, 

of the production our lives we played? 

This story we live, is it triumphant or tragic? 

If we rewrite the script can we regain its magic? 

What if our memory clings to the past, 

gripping so tight that our future wont last? 

Can we summon the courage to recast it?

These days of our lives, 

like the sands in the glass, 

and the hour that it holds. 

For each grain that does fall, 

a moment will pass, yet 

in a blink of the eye the whole hour will flash, 

until the earth heaped above us folds.

In the time we are given, will we live to our fullest? 

Will we take what life offers when we're not at our boldest? 

And if we take what is offered at the cost of desire, 

can we settle with that being all we acquire? 

Or will we shelter ourselves and live life at its coldest?

These days of our lives, 

for some they're spent  as extras in the story of life. 

Never to know the power they hold, 

over the role for which they toil in strife. 

In the role that they play, 

can they direct their own course? 

Or stick to the script and the role they've been forced.

Can they summon the will to better their casting? 

Will they capture the lead before the end curtain's passing? 

Will a standing ovation be the dues they are cashing? 

Or will they stand in the back with their betters amassing?