Sunny Morning Rock

All the world is a stage. Heard that before? I bet it had been tossed around long before somebody decided to write it down for a bit of wit. As I wake to the glow of that burning ball, out there in space, I think of the veils which shadow our eyes even in such a light. The shadows have been thicker, in the dark, in the past, but they still obscure.
If they are drawn aside a touch while the stage is populated, giving vision to that which is normally hidden, maybe even the poorest of entertainment can enlighten.