All the World's a Stage

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their own exits and their entrances,

And one woman in her time plays many parts,

Her acts being seven ages. At first, the girl child, entitled a crying burden, mewling and warm in her Authoress' arms.

Then the obedient puppet, full of father's threads controlling her, with no mirrors to glimpse her own character. And then the shadow,

following her Master in a new home,

with constant fear of darkness.

Then a struggling Authoress,

faces a very tough process of child-bearing;

Finally holds a quill to scribble the yarn of her children. And then the unnamed traveller, thirsty and weary along an aimless journey;

In woe of losing her partner in the past. The sixth age shifts into the lean nun and spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

Living under the roof of contemplation, feeling supported at the Almighty's feet.

Last scene of all,

That end this peculiar eventful history,

A weak flower spreading as much fragrance as she could,

But as per the rule withers as the time calls upon...

  - Inspired by Shakespeare's 'All the World's a Stage'