Some people say that life is just
A grand rehearsal for a play -
An act performed along the way,
The mixed cast fashioned from the dust.

If this is so, why is the plot
So complicated and complex,
With certain lines designed to vex,
That some may follow (some may not)?

If, after the last curtain call
There is indeed another stage -
Where all may love and none may rage,
How many can fit in the hall?

And who before the curtain falls
Can truthfully say he did his best -
Put his fine talent to the test,
And pleased the throng within the walls?