Is not our Shakespeare but that blazing spot
where contradictions each the other touch,
where inconsistencies will foil dread plot,
where all do hear too little or too much.

Are not directors but those sparkling stains
where unforeseen new understandings grow,
where gesture never written down explains,
where proper hesitations speed the flow.

Is not the actor but new-sculpted mask
where character must override I am,
where each success leads to a higher task,
where steadiness resists desire to lam.

Are not the audiences but replies
where entertainers learn what dies, what flies.