The butt-ends of my days and ways

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous -
Almost, at times, the Fool.
-TS Eliot, Prufrock

I saw a play recently, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (Stoppard). I'd seen it before, read it even, but it had been many years ago. I found myself amused, still, but also disturbed by the inevitability of their fate. Unintentional fools, led this way and that by unseen hands. I wondered suddenly at the metaphor to all of us. I am always struck by the change in my perception of things as I grow older (my trousers that evening were, in fact, rolled).

My resulting desire to live a little stronger was made easier by my companion for the evening, a man who is adding an unexpected kerthump to my normal pulse. I'm glad of it, though wary. Do I dare, do I dare?