There are twelve gashes at the intersection where the future and past meet. It is a crowded and lonely place, devoid of any signs or lights to help guide your next move. On these four corners stand a King, a Queen, and a Jester, and they’re holding court in the street.
The King’s only possession is the pencil with which he draws his crown. It’s a kingdom wrapped in wood, topped with aluminum, and capped with an eraser to repair the cracks when pressure builds and the castle crumbles. No lush furs, precious gems, or magnificent fabrics adorn this King. His riches are tucked away inside; lined up on the shelves of his character.
The Queen has all of her jewels stacked safely behind thick brick walls, shielded by superficial smiles and hollow conversations. Confused and dejected from deceit, she looks for the missing piece in all the wrong places. She’s puzzled, looking for Kings in all the wrong faces. The same old record plays out in painful loops.
The Jester is a cunning individual well versed in the intricacies of deception and disguise. Master opportunists shaded by lenses of lust mistaken for love, they can be found in the rubble of every King’s crumbled castle. They helped lay the mortar for every brick that protects the precious Queen. The saddest part is, they used to be Kings and Queens themselves. Monarchs no more, the same old record plays out in painful loops.
The problem is no one wears their crown anymore. The Kings cant find the Queens. The Queens don’t believe Kings exist. The Jesters bring roses, leave bruises, and keep stacking bricks. The Kingdom is being held intact by a string because the royalty forgot they were royal. Her wall gets higher. The King goes further inside. The cracks deepen. The crown sinks. The same old record plays out in painful loops. The first three letters are crossed out and court is almost over.
However, before the final judgement, hope remains in the unmistakeable music that comes from a genuine soul. It is not the same old record. It is inaudible to those undeserving of its melody. It rises over the highest walls, permeates the deepest cracks, and reverberates inside every gash. The notes will guide you in the right direction. Close your eyes and keep your ears open. Concentrate on the sound of your soul. Perfect your instrument, and when the time is right, it will be heard.