Whispers In The House Of Shakespeare Poem by P A Noushad ...

I am here, inside the house of the Bard,
Where silence breathes, and spirits guard.
The wood, the stone — they softly sigh,
With voices that time could never deny.

The characters gather in hidden air,
Juliet weeps, and Hamlet stares.
Lear moans through the ancient dust,
While Macbeth walks, still shadowed in trust.

They whisper to me — not in fear,
But in truths too deep for any ear.
"Life, " they say, "is not just breath —
It is roles we wear before our death."

A king today, a fool at night,
A beggar bathed in borrowed light.
Each heart becomes a shifting stage,
Each soul a script, each age a cage.

What is the meaning? I ask, I yearn —
A soft voice smiles: "You live, you learn.
You love, you lose, you rise, you fall —
And still, the play must say it all."

I see, I feel, beneath these beams,
The curtain stirs with mortal dreams.
Before the final breath is near,
I too shall act — without fear.

And when the echo calls my name,
Let it not speak of gold or fame —
But say: He walked with Shakespeare's ghost,
And played his part with love the most.