Do I clamor for the stage and all its accolades?
Do I neglect loved ones until they fade
into the backdrop like a forgotten set
from a long-ended run at the Met?
Am I so busy doing great things
in such a flurry that it brings
up a maelstrom of heart-catches
and second guesses?
Am I still?
Is my life a writer’s quill
that leaves an imprint
or is it just a fleeting stint?
Just another gig under a spotlight?
Or is my life a bright
reflection of the Holy One,
the only worthy One?