There are few artists as fearless as the comedian, who in spite of his wet palms and dry throat, climbs up the stage. He opens his mouth and disappears into an imaginary world. He then reappears - bringing out the unusual, the weird, and the outright hilarious.
Who is the one that lives in the present if not the comedian who must laugh at himself whether he stands or falls, receives stones or praise, rotten eggs or applause.
Who is stout of heart if not the comedian, clawing at rocks with bare hands, digging wells with bare feet, carving wood with bare teeth, mining a smile from a lifetime of pain.
Have I half of your fortitude, dear comedian, I will be on roll through the divine street, riding on a chariot of wind.
No comments:
Post a Comment