I've seen this play before
it reached the stage
and read it silently in blank verse
mimed it perversely and worse,
I wrote it
Every costume fold fits
and the moon and the stars
hang over what seems obscur
at my command
Whispers become arias
filling amphitheatres in the open air
Madman tumbling to his fall
It's the fate of the creator
or a wisecrack of the devil
Turning dust into blood
where words drown
as easily as one, two, three
in rivers of ash.

this looks perfect to me. Thanks M, JS, fun stuff...f