Waking exuberantly from a long series
of dreams I had (or might likely have had),
I decided to produce – having grown weary
of the cloying, the beautiful, the nicely clad –
a staged history. I, the creator,
commanding stretches of brilliance as well as flaws.
No less than a total work of art, staged over
several evenings, employing pauses
written in for the usual fits of coughing
and countless other useful theatrical tools.
A sorry epic in which men often
and again took up arms at the behest of fools,
while certain locks in the Bastille were left untried.
Some died as they spoke, some spoke as they died.
Don't let your exuberance get the best of you.
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