A rhythmic beat,
Ticking gears and blood
Each must play his part,
Gracing this song,
The steady pace of the Heart.
Far from the Heart,
The dancing begins,
Lords of Dreams and Disaster,
Play on Her whims.
Hoof beats, tiny feet,
One lights the way.
He carries his lanterns high,
And the road to sweet sleep he will
The other, Dark Grey and Black Dragon,
Pounds on the floor with heavy feet,
And gives off a fear, a power, a quiver,
That makes all who see him Quake,
A necessary evil.
Quiet Joy, flits in the shadows,
Close, yet far at hand.
Never permitted to touch, for betrayal yet,
Stings and burns this land.
Forgiveness is lost at sea.
Lost One’s kin, the noble son,
Waistcoat drawn, and watch recording the moments.
Closest he resides, to his Majesty’s Heart,
Though sadness bursts his own.
Alone when together, Alone when apart,
A sad fate given to the protector of Hearts.
The Joker resides here too, though at random,
Almost like light. He appears so suddenly,
And is gone in an instant.
So excitable! So bold! Not a care in the world!
He exists to be happy, playful, and tricky,
The bell wound around his neck.
Alas his games end as quickly as they begin.
The Illusions we dread,
Protect us from the lies in our head.
Yet too, they deceive us, to save us they say,
Who does the harm?
Who is to blame?
Certainly not he, of course he would say.
“I live only for the Heart, I do not play games.”
For that is not his role.
But there is a Game Master,
We cannot forget,
Who keeps the gears turning, yet
Also plagues them.
His Madness, his Concern,
So strange, but sincere?
Hard to pin down,
But do not fear.
He does his best, though
Sometimes it hurts,
The others keep him in check,
And sometimes the Truth hurts.
Truth, Honesty, the Knife who cuts Thick.
These all describe Him, no Lies he permits.
Don’t fib, don’t echo, he will not allow,
The smallest of deceits, or the Heart he’ll make pound.
A nasty side effect, this hammering of the Heart.
Caution with words, and it will once again be fine.
All have parts to play.
Who is that?
The forgotten one.
Hidden in shadows,
And the song bird attracts,
The song of the Heart,
The loneliest chirping,
Of one being, all alone.
His Mask is his own,
And he shares it with Her.
The Lies fight with Truth,
But he doesn’t seek harm.
Sometimes the Trust is bitter,
Not sweet as they say.
It needs to be hidden,
And so does the Masquerade stay.