where the writers are

Things happened here, flowing from me The stage was set for eventful existence Other things happened other place, other time My world was defined , its contours set But my luminous eyes looked far beyond The other small mimes did not matter Their laughter rang some times in ears As though they were the main shows . Now as the frilled curtain goes down My closed eyelids belie my existence A cotton swab in nostrils cuts off my air There are other things, other shows.