End

Jul 21

I knew someone who ended himself, Christmas time, years ago. I wanted to tell him curtains rise and fall, that the set and dialogue changes. Whatever act they were in, it would have come to a close and then a new show could begin with a different story. When the tale takes a tragic turn, its conflict brings out what we have inside us, what we find is what was there all along. Nothing alone and void, there are meanings, even if it is just being. But it was his last playbill. Turning out the lights, locking the doors and closing down the theater. I walked by the abandoned marquee in what was now a bad part of town, saw old posters from sold-out performances long decades ago. There are other shows, things that come after a long run before the footlights. A stage on the other side of town perhaps, one thing is certain, that as things come to a close, something else opens up, and we find ourselves the player and audience at another show.

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