Reflections of the Pi Class 37
Act III, Scene ii
Someone has altered the script.
My lines have been changed.
The other actors are shifting roles.
They don't come on when they are expected to,
and they don't say the lines I've written
and I'm being upstaged.
I thought I was writing this play
with a rather mice role for myself,
small, but juicy
and some excellent lines.
But nobody gives me my cues
and the scenery has been replaced.
I don't recognize the new sets.
This isn't the script I was writing.
I don't understand this plot at all.
To grow up
is to find
the small part you are playing
in this extraordinary drama
written by
somebody else.
Madeleine L'Engle, The Weather of the Heart
Labels: Pi, Reflection, Thorns, Worship
