Being a poet and melancholy (in the larger half of my personality), I’m often drawn to the beautiful…yet somber. My love of Shakespeare is no exception. Of course, I love the romantic and beautiful things he wrote - but, still, my favorite is solemn and foreboding. I’ve loved it since my early teens, and now as an adult I still love it…but desire for it not to be true of me. Still, it’s breathtaking in it’s poetry and rhythm - Here it is:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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.”

The last line “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” reminds me of 1 Corinthians 13 where it speaks of eloquent speech and “tongues of men and angels”, but no love. Without love we are nothing but “clanging symbols”.

So, we avoid being relegated to insignificance by one thing: LOVE. Shakespeare wrote a lot about love, but often seemed cynical about people’s ability to really live in love…I guess all poets can be given to that.

I pray I will not become so cynical. I pray I will live in love so that at the end of my time on “the stage” of life, I will have not spent my time speaking of beautiful things…clanging, but not loving - and, in the end, “signifying nothing”.

Love wins. Love wins. Love wins…

Peace.