I am Angus, come back from the dead.
I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
I am but an attendant lord, one that will do
to swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince.
You, my darling, are a work of art;
I have known them all already, known them all,
Seen them pinned and wriggling upon the wall,
Complicated and beautiful—
I appreciate art.
You are broken all to pieces,
Your eyes and ears are everywhere,
Spread out upon the floor,
Like a patient being glued upon a table.
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker—
I know how
To put you back together.
So let us go then, you and I,
Run away with me while we have the chance!
And then there will be time, there will be time:
Time to murder and create,
Time to build our faces to deceive the faces of our Fate.
Time for a hundred visions and decisions,
Time for those final overwhelming questions--
Time for you and time for me
And time to waste the labour of our bees.
I hear you ask "Do we dare?" and "Do we dare?"
Do we dare
Disturb the universe?
Come. How shall we begin?