With pen in hand and a smile on his lips
His protagonist was weighed down
With the death of his father,
Not a death of natural causes,
But one of treachery and deceit.
Ink continued to spill upon the pages, and,
Revenge can cut both ways,
But blind eyes do not see.
Though the apparition spirited Hamlet’s rage,
His compatriots begged him to stifle
The rampart anger encouraged by a spirit.
From Shakespeare’s hands
To the eyes of the reader…
“This above all: to thine own self be true…”
The written words of a beautiful mind…