Whether we realize it or not
Words can be anything they want
A whole nation or a small colony
Trapped on the shores of a magical island
Where the soul of language itself appears
In its fancy English dress
Turning the world back into theatre
Not since the Greeks or Golgotha
Are we so appalled and lifted
By our foolishness and terror
Put before us so precisely
Out of the mystery of his life
Sketching out our futures
In the beauty of his lines
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