The Never-ending Masque:
A troupe of dancers, with colourful costumes
Ascends the stage with jaunty smiles
Whilst the eldest member, in a Jester's mask
Narrates the tale in style:
As they begin their dance, these lovely dancers
The skies turn cold and grey...
Arms reach down from the rumbling heavens
And they take our stage away!
Yet the harlequins laugh
And simply dance on the grass
For the show must go on
Until time has passed
Harken brothers, a wicked wind blows!
It stirs from the belly of the unkind beast
It rips our props away from us;
And hopes the dance will cease...
But the Harlequins laugh and continue the show
They mime to mimic their props and tools
Using naught but the love that they have in their hearts
They create a fable of ghosts and ghouls
My brothers, no, it cannot be!
The narrator grasps at his throat in anguish
For the Jester's voice has been taken away
And now the show can finally be vanquished...
But the Harlequins laugh and put on a smile
They clap their brother upon his coloured back
From his pockets they pull out notes and signs;
Writing the story in the boldest of black:
"Though all in the world may be ripped from us
We hold to the love that we have for the stage
For The illusion of having nothing at all
Is naught but a delusory cage!"
-Chen Yuan Wen, 18th July 2012