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World's a stage

The world's a stage, an eternal theatre Our lives mere plays, written by the creator. Lost in its labyrinths, We wander. Purpose of our existence, We ponder. Unconscious the first few acts, As our audience claps, Walking with our hands wrapped, A butterfly's wings flap. Then the hands unfold, None else to hold. The play now a balancing act, Impossible to stay on track. Destiny brings along, an actor contemporary, With undeniable on-stage chemistry, Rehearsals become an excuse, To yet again, be their only muse. Meals we share, Steal glances, we dare. No more a stage, now a meadow, Of daffodils dancing in yellow. Their iridescence, bright and shining, Every cloud's silver lining. Their voice, a serene grace, Harder to not look at their face.

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