Momentarily I am frozen in time
Again I am a witness to all that has happened
Soon I am enveloped by the sound of countless voices
A cacophony of voices fills the heavens
Coming from those who fill the coliseum of Colossus
Rabble such as those who filled the coliseum in Rome
Screaming
They chant
That the damned be given up to Madam Lafarge
Upon a Daiz
The thirteen sit
Six to either side
Except for tears impassive
As they listen
To the history of man’s inequity to man
Scribes have come from all points of the compass
From Egypt, the Holy Land, Greece, Rome, Europe.
The Andes, The Middle Kingdom and more
All to tell their story
And me with heavy heart from America
To tell mine
All to settle accounts
To speak of the future
If it exists
The thirteen shall listen, question and then decide
As I wait my turn, I think
There can be no lying, or excuses for what has happened
All played a part
Nothing can be hidden from the mirror of life
Again I am transfixed in time
History plays out again
It seems that we never learn
In the new land the immigrants can offer up thanks and begin anew
My story begins with the Covent
Written by men and blessed by their maker
Where all were created equal
Tho many were not
It would offer opportunity to all
But only in proportion to their efforts
Fair judgment would be bestowed upon all
Their acts would be there for all to see
A system of checks and balances was created
So that one could not overwhelm the other
I glanced at the mirror again
As I did, I see the beginnings of shadows
The worshipers of Mammon and Greed
The perversity and mendacity of the Law Makers
Who suggested a new System
A house of cards built upon sand
To benefit a few
Rather than the people
Who were their Electors
The people became hostile towards one another
War brought brother against brother
Nothing was settled
A hundred years passed
Before the least could no longer be denied the rights
Possessed by the majority
Yet so many squandered the opportunity
To be assimilated
To be forged anew
As they are poured from the melting pot of humanity
The money changers were at work
Distorting the truth
Creating wealth for few
Their transgressions would be put upon the shoulders
Of the masses and their seed
The once free were becoming slaves to those who provide their bread
The emperor and his court all wearing theatrical masks promised a
New Order if you would anoint them with the mantle of leadership
But all too soon many learned that freedom was to be abrogated
Assets were to be expropriated
Those that would question were labeled unstable, terrorists, uninformed
Not progressive
Change was promised and promised
The words were hollow rhetoric
There was no passion
To help
The poor, the homeless
The victims of nature’s disasters
They who had lost hope
All waiting for the changes that never came
The Emperor and his consorts told the people that everything
Was getting better
Yet, those that could see
Saw, that there was not a crust of bread upon the table
For many, except for a cloak of nothingness
The Emperor is naked for all to see
Wars were fought
Mountains of wealth were dispensed
But to what avail
As I look in the mirror I see a ragged trio
One carrying a tattered standard
One with a drum and the other a fife
Is there a chance that there is still a spark
Then in the mirror I see France and it is 1793
A voice in the coliseum bellows
Who is Mme. Lafarge?
Another voice answers
She is La Guillotine
Now it is my turn
I am asked
What is your name?
I reply
Maximilien Robes…….
I pause and quietly petition
Maker of all, they have forsaken you
Give them another chance so that all
Will come to your table