For years I have been captivated by Shakespearean plays and his superior use of the English Language. His use of metaphors and other literary devices have enthralled me.I had written some poems which I believed could be put in a play. So, I went ahead and wrote one act of a play in Shakespearean style. It is a humble dedication to my literary superstar. Though it is quite a long read, I hope it is worth it.
Main characters:
Time being the narrator
Broodius, our ever day dreaming, charming hero
Passion, the goddess of love, a sad and hopeless romantic
Lihtious, the Sun god.
Triumpis, the lord of heaven.
Time: It was the coldest month of the year. The cold, northern winds pushed the light, soft clouds swiftly over the starlit, night sky. On one such cloud sat the most beautiful woman in all the three worlds. She sat despondently, her eyes half closed, evidently perturbed. She was the goddess of love,Passion.
Passion: O! how my heart yearns to be listened to. It is but the strings
of the lair, waiting to be plucked by the right fingers. Together we can
produce the perfect symphony. O! how my soul yearns to be touched and
felt by another so kind and pure. Of all the mighty gods, who reside in
their heavenly abodes, buried beneath their grandeour, not one piques my
interest, not one touches my soul. What hellish reason could there
possibly be, for the goddess of love to not be loved. Have I not spread
love to all corners of heaven, hell and earth? Do I not deserve the
same? Or have I shared all parts of my
spirit, that I lay now cold and hollow? Find me love! Give me love!
Time: the god of the winds heard the laments of Passion and taking pity
on her pushed the clouds towards the great forests. Passion was sobbing
as she grieved over her desolation. As she looked down on Earth, a tear
rolled down on her cheek and fell on handsome, young man's sleeping
face. The god of wind smiled; his play had begun.
Passion: Who is this magical creature? His face shines more radiantly
than the full moon. His body seems to be sculpted by the finest of
sculptors by the most divine of chisels. He is the man I seek. His
simplicity allures to my soul. I cant help it anymore. Im drawn to him
as the sun is drawn to the horizon every day. I shall have him, I shall
have him!
Time: Passion descended upon Earth in the moonlit, clear, winter sky. She lands next to the man, whose name is Broodius, who slept under the very same tree day in and out, hoping to find the purpose of his existence. He seemed to be in deep meditation. Passion placed her hand lovingly and lightly on his chest, waking him up.
Broodius: Praise be to the gods! Who are you damsel? Diamonds lose their shimmer to you, and the sun seems to shine only to see you. I have never seen a more beautiful woman on the face of the earth. You are divine, you are pure. I am soon to be blinded by your intense beauty? Speak up o pretty one, what is your name and where do you hail from?
Passion: I am the goddess of love, passion. Indeed you are the first and the last man who shall ever set his eyes upon me. I saw you from above, and you are the answer to my prayers. You are the hand that wipes my tears away. I have come to take you away. Come with me my love, stay with me.
Time: Broodius was utterly captivated by the charm of Passion's persona.
Her words affected him like how a raindrop touches the morning flower;
lightly but strongly. He gave his hand to her, spellbound and she pulled
him towards heaven. But, suddenly, lightning struck and the dark clouds
rumbled. Broodius was thrown towards Earth, and he fell on the soft
grass, unconscious. Passion looked up to heaven with fear and shock. A
voice thundered from the heavy, black clouds. It was triumphis.
Triumphis: O passion! How dare you bring a mere mortal to the doors of
heaven!! You have shamed the purity of the gods by touching a mere
mortal. I banish you to hell. Go there, and never set foot on heaven!
Time: passion is immediately whisked away to hell. Meanwhile, Broodius
gets up searching for Passion. He looks everywhere, from the shortest
shrub to the tallest tree. Having not found her and completely hopeless,
he cries out to the forest.
Broodius: Oh passion, oh passion where is thee?
In the depths of the world, where has He left you to be?
Now, I am left to ponder,
Will anybody guide me yonder?
Or, so morosely must I wander
In quest to this answer?
Oh passion, you have left me dry and sombre.
Without you, away from my path,I meander,
Oh! In your will I want to surrender.
No no, why do I suddenly feel all so weak?
Is it your absence that has made me meek?
By losing you, how much sorrow have I begot?
Where do I find you, I feel so hopeless and lost.
O passion, o passion, where is thee?
Through you, life's purpose I shall see.
Time: The sun God, lightious witnessing all the scenes, felt extremely sad for poor broodius, but not wanting to bear the wrath of Triumphis, sent out a small whisper through the forest. He wanted to help Broodius, to try and give him a hint.
Lightious: At the peak of the silent night,
The ears must pick up the words of the whispering winds.
Follow the shriek of the midnight owl,
To where the monsters growl, and the wolves howl.
Wait till the fresh sun will rise.
Its warmth will melt the chilling
thoughts,
Its light, will flood the darkness of the mind.
End of Act I