Time for me to write another soliloquy sonnet. Just so you all know what I am working on today. I will post it when I am done. Shakespeare’s Macbeth is my target this time:

Act 5 Scene 5: Tomorrow, And Tomorrow, And Tomorrow (Spoken by Macbeth)

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 
To the last syllable of recorded time, 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! 
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage 
And then is heard no more: it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing.


Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and . . . Oh hell!
My time is unrecorded, not some word
Illuminated metaphors can’t tell
The feelings of today; they’re felt, not heard
Brief candles, walking shadows–not my way!
Go issue your command to those who hear
Such rhetoric’s a simple thing to say
Poor players, not the star, will strut in fear 
It’s true, the world’s a stage, so watch and learn
Don’t mix your metaphors with what you feel
No tale should make your heart believe or yearn
In utterance by idiots, unreal
If life has sound and fury, c’est la vie
Significance will be, so let it be!

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