Hamlet contemplates suicide, but he cannot. He does not know where the soul will go.
Dialogue with Hamlet
On, haggard Prince!
What ills by which thee stretch thy strings
In dispute of dilemmas for a region you cannot define?
With inconclusive ruminations cloaked in reason,
Spawning centuries of malcontents without
Thy unbranded dagger and feeble discourse
Leave us mired as trophies of Scylla and Charybdis.
The cycle journey just begun
Remains spirit's bold venture,
As a ghostly substitute standing yet still
On its first primal province.
Would that thy unstable reflections
Meet the Orb's certain course,
Turning a blind eye to heaven's arched star,
Yet falling into the comfort of darkness
In perfect harmony with meridian design.
Proud thought restrained by timidity of heart,
And the glove of ecclesiastical vow,
Is an unworthy servant of the deed.
Look to the heavens for bearing,
Not among the affairs of men,
Where folly and happenstance
Play as young children among
Life's high and compelling circumstances.
By this rectitude of mind and indomitable will,
Indecisive discourse finds the name of action.
Note from the Author, not a part of the poem. The 16th century church forbade suicide. Hamlet debates taking his life. He wonders where his soul will go. This poem seeks to answer that question.