With pen in hand and a smile on his lips

He wrote.

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,

He wrote.

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…

5 thoughts on “A BEAUTIFUL MIND…

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