Kaleidoscope III ~ Conclave

CONCLAVE Dripping on the marina was dissolution, For how long had this been going on? A carousel, a harbor of spies. The world, a pristine mirage, A yard of windows ~ Either reflecting the surface of things; Or rewriting the legend. The Good, The True, And The Beautiful. For beauty it must be drawn ~ The arrows in the forge, Not a single one left in his quiver. The empty container as Justice left his fingers and one by one ~ You know not what this man has lived. Great expectations were placed, A stack of letters, A photograph from many years before. An art collection hung above their door. The scars above his eyes told of an unspoken law. Silent and wry, Something ancient. The black clouds parted again and ~ Something woke him from a dream. What he discovered there was the key unto his sleep ~ That the watching eyes, Did watch him in the deep. He was striding in upon a donkey. There was at the centre of the city a conclave taking place. The brash, the bravest and the famous, That knew the lines and how to speak it ~ But not the life and how to live it. That technique was a pill swallowed and stuck ~ Lodged in its throat, it stayed. They could not speak no more with danger ~ Nor with tongue, Like a piano that couldn't play a song. Its keys did tighten, Every seed planted did bloom at once, As he stepped forward to the mark ~ It's time. Around its old flag did circle. He'd known them all from afar. He'd seen them rise, And taken a knee, Before each their star. Watched each rise in glory, Watched their success as they told their stories. Watched them claim their masks were great. But none did have the mark of fate. He whispered without them hearing; "Have fun. Enjoy your time in the sun. For soon the night will come. And in the good morning you will see what has bloomed. In every seed, you can gasp and you can steal. But nothing matters for what is real. It's time, For; The good, the true, and the beautiful."