Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Box of Fools

Whilst I am on a roll, I might as roll with it... hmm, let us play with this scheme.

The birds are in the counting house, counting out there troubles, while the king is in the pantry, shooting syrup and honey.  The maid is in the way, and she will have no suitor, for the queen is secretly desiring her long lost first desiring.  And I am sitting in the tower, with fools for which there is tiring, for there were no remorse for his majesties humor retiring.  The princess and the prince, poor sots, are the ones that learn to fall from the grace that should they be supporting.

I look upon these fools before me, and wonder how they wail, with their tongues cut out they moan so loud it did not serve it purpose.  You must be dumb to have come to this place with earnest, for nothing is true, it is all reviewed by the countess and her cooky.  The lamb is dead, he is offered to the pheasant and the serpent, but the lion lives, for the time it seems, by hiding in the trees.  Now I am given pause to know these fools will not believe a thing they are hearing.

Will you, won't you please just stop your complaining.  I tire of the sound of the din you fools are making.  Still there must be something to this, or you would not jest, instead you would be out there hunting stags and their mates.  So if you wonder what I am about, look aside to the fool beside, and realize they are you as you are they, and we are all in the same box of our own making.

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