Proscenium Arch: Aperture of Hallowed Madness

To the jester and his cohorts there is no vision so serene,
As the halcyon days under the proscenium arch
The jester leading the throng as the mightiest king,
Skillfully leading the procession in an endless march

The influence of the crowd that gathered with abandon,
Arrayed in the finest silken attire and decadent fa├žade
The jester swaying to and fro as a depraved phantom,
To the cheers of the masses and endless applaud

The everlasting drama unfolding is the tragic comedy of life,
Love and loss, there is no finer basis for operatic madness
A revenant king who found his immortal queen through strife,
Lovers in twain but of one heart found life eternal through sadness

They were set to wed one tempestuous and fateful eventide,
But behind the scenes there was a plot afoot most foul
The king's utmost intimate servant sought to murder his bride,
Adapting to his countenance a most murderous scowl

The gist of the Machiavellian machination at hand,
Was to lure the fair maiden to her death at the tip of a dagger
Tipped with deadly poison, that was the plan,
In waltzed the assassin with a confident stride and swagger

As the executioner thrust forth his deadly stiletto,
The patriarch of the kingdom was the unintended target
The soon to be queen ushered forth a series of screams as a stretto,
As the king lay dying his blood poured out as a stream of garnet

Her majesty knew not what to do but only be with her husband,
She thrust herself through her still beating heart with the poisoned lancet
And with her last rattling breath cried out with a heartfelt summon,
"Let our souls be taken as one and give us rapid transit!"

But alas, this tragedy is not as sad as it would seem,
Without the loss of life and turning tide of love
There would be no rhythm to this darkest of schemes,
Never having been immortalized by the harp and lyre they are so worthy of


Madness and murder is never more beloved in life as it is on stage. On stage we celebrate the cruelty that lies in the hearts of man. Every instance of degradation is lauded as entertainment. In this case we have betrayal center stage but that betrayal is overshadowed by true love. A queen who would prefer to die from a self inflicted mortal wound rather than live even a moment without her soul mate. How many people have you met who have felt that passionately about you?

True love most assuredly lives on stage, immortalized by the words of those living presently and as well as those long past. But, does it it live in the hearts of those who watch the tragedy of life unfold? I still have a spark of hope that maybe somewhere in this world an undying passion such as this awaits me. Somewhere someone has the capacity to love me even in life beyond the present when we shuffle this mortal coil and find life eternal. Could it be you? The one reading this?

Alas, we may never know...

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