Academy Awards

This a poem Robert Peters wrote sixty years ago but it may be apropos for this moment:

God is our director
and nature is his troupe.

He bellowed through his
megaphone, let his hand droop,
waited for space, a stage, to form
and set each star, creature, entity
in its chalkplace, gave each
his singing, talking role, or
screams, signed on his son
as prompter for the
divine comedy, and stuntman.

When the show closes
aided by various assistant
directors: Buddha, Mahomet,
Aimee Semple MacPherson, He
will make the academy awards
reserving for himself
(stagemanager, writer, lighting
technician, and director)
gold statuettes–human forms
to grace his abode.???????????????????????????????

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