I suppose I ought to be glad that no playwright has ever written about me, for that is a fame that always seems to end badly, unless it is a comedy, and that, too, is dangerous ground, for such plays tread heavily for a laugh.
Consider Shakespeare, and ask yourself if yo would want to ever be one of his protagonists, no doubt ending up prematurely dead, and carrying all manner of sin and angst to your grave, while others gather to note your failures.
I suppose I could try a one-man show, autobiographical, but only if I directed myself, and even that would be challenging as I don’t take direction well, but my early attempts at its creation failed miserably, as my audience, the mirror, made clear.
Faith is something, she says, that everyone has, it is just that some don’t recognize it, even while the coin is flipping through the air and the desired outcome is whispered in the mind. She believes that life is a joy, but that it is also heaven’s waiting room, and while there may be a trap door out, she knows where it is and can avoid it. She says she’s enjoying the show but this is just the opening act and it’s the headliner she came to see. He smiles, imaging his next life certain this is just one life in and eternal groundhog day of existence.
In a Jovian moment Luna paused her wanderings and sat patiently above the trees that stare down on the street. You know they are speaking, want very much to listen in on their conversation, but the birds are busy singing their evening songs, and pay neither moon nor planet the attention that they are due. Soon enough Luna recommences her nightly trek across the sky, while Jupiter stands still a moment longer, enjoying his starring role in this nights heavenly show.